


The Weight on a Soul

by adiwriting



Series: My Home [8]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-01 17:37:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13299864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adiwriting/pseuds/adiwriting
Summary: Between the obligation Oliver feels towards the Lance family and his guilt over Felicity getting shot, Oliver may have reached his limit... But he's too selfish to walk away like he should.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place November 2012. A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

The music is thumping loudly, playing something Felicity assures him is a mix of Top 40 and club music. He wouldn’t really know anymore. He’s been away from the real world for so long that everything is foreign to him. Oliver looks out at the crowd gathered on his lawn. There are over a hundred people here tonight, which is good. Every single one of them can testify as witness that he was here at this party and not across town under a hood. 

Oliver smiles in relief. This plan is going to work, he can feel it. 

Despite how confident he’s been whenever Felicity’s expressed concern about his arrest, there’s been doubt on his end. What if the case did make it to trial? What if he couldn’t pass the lie detector test? Who would carry out his father’s mission if he got sent to prison? 

Thankfully, he doesn’t think that’s going to happen anymore. He’s confident that he passed the lie detector test. Once The Hood shows up across town, he’s golden. This party is the perfect alibi. 

Felicity comes up beside him and takes his hand, squeezing it to get his attention. When he looks down at her, she nods towards the hallway. She’s found something on Mueller. 

He follows her down the hall as people cat call them and whistle their encouragement. He wears a smirk and waves at them all, even though it makes him feel cheap. They think that Felicity’s just another one of his conquests and it’s the farthest thing from the truth. But letting them think they are looking for a private place to have sex is better than them knowing the truth. 

He pulls on her hand and gestures to his dad’s office. Oliver has to kick a few partygoers out of the room, but they leave quickly and soon he’s able to lock the door behind them. He turns around and looks at her expectantly. 

She reaches into her purse and pulls out her tablet. 

“I’ve been following the tracker Digg put on Mueller’s car,” she says as he looks at the screen over her shoulder. “He’s been sitting in the warehouse district for the last twenty-five minutes.” 

Oliver grabs the screen out of her hands and inspects the area closer, zooming out to see exactly where he is. What he sees confirms it. There’s no legal reason for Mueller to be in such a deserted part of town. The arms deal is going down tonight. 

“We have to get Digg down there,” he says. “Are there any buyers in the area?” 

Felicity does something on her tablet and a minute later an infrared image of the warehouse pops up. 

“Right now, it just looks like Mueller and his men,” she says. 

“Then there’s still time,” he says with a nod. “Let’s go.” 

Oliver doesn’t waste time waiting for Felicity. She’ll catch up. 

He walks quickly out of the office and back outside. He needs to make his first public address before he steals Diggle away to inform him of the plan. Oliver glances around the lawn and smiles to himself. Lance showed up. He hadn’t expected him to, but this is better. Now the man will see for himself that Oliver was here the entire time. There will be little room to doubt or claim he somehow bought off a hundred people’s sworn statement. 

He slips into his public persona by painting a smooth, carefree smile on his face and jumps up onto the platform. He addresses the crowd and plays the drunken frat boy role that they all expect from him. He hates this version of himself. Being Ollie feels so wrong after everything he’s been through, but it’s what he has to do to survive. 

Besides, he doesn’t deserve for these people to see that he’s changed. He might not be the selfish, drunken billionaire he once was, but it’s not like he’s a good man either. 

“Hi, everybody!” he calls out to the crowd who all cheer enthusiastically. This is the part he’s always despised. These people don’t know him. They only get excited to see him because they are either waiting to see him do something tabloid worthy or they expect him to pay the tab. Nobody is truly here to support him. 

It doesn’t matter. He’s using them as much as they are using him. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship. He doesn’t need or want these people to know him. 

“I’m very touched that you came to celebrate with me before I am sent up the river,” Oliver says. He spots Lance in the crowd looking absolutely miserable and more than a little bit murderous. 

“Closest neighbors are six miles away,” he says. “So don’t worry about the noise. Actually, on second thought… Let’s wake those losers up!” 

The crowd cheers and the music begins pumping again, louder than before. He looks out into the crowd to see Felicity standing next to Digg. Neither of them look impressed. He’s not surprised. Felicity hates him when he acts like this. She always has. 

He hops off of the platform and heads over to them. They’ve gotta get Digg over to the warehouse district to stop the arms deal. 

“I’m having very vivid and unpleasant flashbacks to college,” Felicity tells him as they walk back into the house. He bites down a defense. They’ve had this argument before. She knows why he has to act like this and she’s never going to like it. If there was another way, he’d take it, but there isn’t. 

“If you think this is what prison’s like, you are in for a rude awakening,” Digg says as several girls run past them waving handcuffs in the air. 

He leads them upstairs to his bedroom, far enough away from the crowd so that they can speak freely. Oliver then nods to Felicity. She pulls her tablet out of her purse and hands it to Diggle. 

“Muller’s car has been parked in the warehouse district of the Glades for 45 minutes,” she informs him. 

Digg glances at the tablet before passing it back to Felicity. 

“Yeah, that’s a good place for an arms deal,” he says. 

“Or a truly awful place to go parking,” she jokes. 

Oliver doesn’t respond except to give her a brief amused smile. They have business to do and they need to focus. 

“This is going down tonight,” Oliver says. 

Digg crosses his arms. “What do we do?” he asks. “Drop a dime on Mueller with the cops?” 

Oliver takes a deep breath. This is where his calculations can either pay off or smack him hard in the face. 

“No,” he says, carefully. “The man in the hood. He’s gonna stop them.” 

Digg drops his hands to his sides and gives him a careful look of his own. 

“Oliver, you can’t leave the house,” he says. 

“It doesn’t have to be Oliver in the hood,” Felicity says, smiling up at Digg innocently. 

Digg glances back and forth between them, his face unreadable. A minute later, he scoffs and Oliver is sure that they’ve lost him. He is going to have to convince Diggle of the brilliance of the plan just like he had to convince Felicity. 

“That’s why you threw this ridiculous party?” Digg asks him. Oliver doesn’t say anything. “So you have a hundred witnesses placing you here at the house while I’m supposed to be across town dressed as a vigilante?” 

He’s angrier than Oliver expected him to be. Above everything else, he assumed Digg would see the importance of stopping Mueller whatever the cost. He’s banked on that. 

“John—” Felicity starts to say, but Digg cuts her off. 

“And you went along with this?” Digg asks, glaring daggers at her. Oliver instantly goes on the defensive. If Digg is going to be angry at anyone, it should be him. He reaches out to pull Felicity behind him, but she just shrugs out of his grasp. “What happened to two against one?” 

“Two against one?” Oliver asks, looking at them both confused. He has no idea what Digg is talking about. The guilty look in Felicity’s eyes tells him she does. 

“I guess I should have expected this,” Digg says. “No matter what you said, you were always going to back your boyfriend’s play.” 

“Hey!” Felicity protests. “It’s a good play.” 

When Digg crosses his arms and stares her down she drops her arms and sighs. 

“Alright, fine,” she says. “Good is a relative term. I still think we should have scrubbed the footage so Oliver never got caught, but we’re here now and this is the only play we have left.” 

Oliver eyes her. Are they really about to get into this again? She just shrugs. “What? You know it should be  _ you _ out there stopping Mueller.” 

Oliver sighs, not wanting to start an argument with her when he’s already in the middle of one with Digg. He turns back to the man. 

“I thought it was gonna be enough just for you to be seen in the hood,” Oliver says as Digg paces angrily. “I didn’t count on Mueller showing up and I didn’t count on the possibility that the Glades could be flooded with machine guns.”  

Digg doesn’t look convinced. 

“It’s fine,” Felicity interjects, stepping between them. “I’ll go out as The Hood.” 

Oliver is relieved to see Digg give her the same unamused look that he gives her. In no scenario is Felicity going out into the field to try and stop Mueller. He’ll break house arrest before he allows that to happen. 

“Look,” Oliver says, completely ignoring Felicity's offer. “I promise, it was never my intention to put you in harm’s way.” 

Digg scoffs again. “Oliver, I didn’t think joining your crusade was ever gonna be risk free,” he says. “I just don’t like being played. Now, I don’t know if Felicity lets you get away with lying to her, but I’m not the guy you lie to.” 

“You’re right,” he concedes. “I’m sorry.” 

“Wow,” Felicity says, looking genuinely shocked. “He gets a ‘you’re right?’ I didn’t know that was in your vocabulary... And while we’re discussing it, you shouldn’t be lying to me either. We’re a team. This only works if we are all on the same page.” 

“Yeah,” he agrees, albeit reluctantly. He’s gotten so used to going things alone and always having to lie to survive. It’s going to take him awhile to get used to doing things a different way. He has a team now, he’s going to have to learn to trust them with his mission. 

Digg moves towards the door and Oliver thinks they’ve lost him. 

“So am I going to jail?” Oliver asks. 

“No, man,” Digg says. He turns around to look at him and Oliver can tell he’s annoyed by the entire situation, but at least the anger is gone. “I got to stop an arms deal.” 

Felicity pumps her fist as Digg walks out the door. 

“Well that could have gone much worse,” she says. 

“Please watch out for him,” he tells her as she leans in to give him a goodbye kiss. 

“I will,” she says, moving to quickly throw her tablet into her purse. “Promise me you won’t have too much fun while I’m gone.” 

“No women, just drunken debauchery,” he promises before clarifying, “Fake drunken debauchery.”

She rolls her eyes. “Tommy should be here soon,” she tells him. 

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he argues. 

She hums her agreement and he’s pretty convinced she thinks he needs somebody to look after him. He’s mildly insulted. He knows that she was hurt after he brought those two women to his dad’s ceremony, but he thought they’d moved past this. She knows that was just for show and didn’t mean anything, and he’s promised never to do that again. 

Their relationship isn’t going to work if she can’t trust him. If he can’t figure out a way to make her see that she can trust him. 

“I’ll be good,” he says. “Call me when you’re done.” 

“I’ll do you one better,” she says, grabbing onto the front of his shirt and pulling him in close. “I’ll come over.” 

She kisses him deeply, a delicious promise of what’s to come. 

“Mmmm,” he hums happily when she pulls away from him and starts walking out the door. “Be safe.” 

She gives him one last wave before leaving to chase after Diggle. 

Oliver glances around the empty room, trying to figure out if there is something he can do to convince her that she’s the only one he’ll ever want. She gives him so much just by being with him and accepting all of his scars and all he gives her are reasons to doubt. He needs to find a way to make sure she feels as loved and cared for as she makes him feel. Maybe then she’d believe him when he says he doesn’t need anyone else but her. 

Well, a romantic evening for the two of them isn’t in the cards tonight. She has work to do and he has a party he needs to be seen at if this plan is going to work. He can take her out tomorrow once the charges against him have been dropped. He can plan something really nice for them. Something that will top their first date. 

Oliver leaves the room and heads down the stairs. He stops by the bar at the entryway and orders himself a glass of champagne. If people are going to believe he’s drunk, they need to see him with a drink. 

“Make that two,” a familiar voice says behind him. 

Oliver turns around and smiles at Tommy who immediately pulls him in for a hug. 

“How are you holding up?” Tommy asks, concerned. 

Oliver glances around the party purposefully before smiling, “Things could be worse.” 

Tommy just laughs as the two of them grab their drinks and head out to the pool deck. 

“So where’s Felicity?” Tommy asks, scanning the crowd. 

“We got into a fight,” Oliver lies. 

Tommy looks surprised. “Over what?” 

“Laurel representing me,” he says carefully, knowing that Tommy isn’t going to like it. 

Hell, Oliver doesn’t like it. Felicity and he had agreed earlier that they’d have to come up with a plausible reason for her to leave the party so as not to arouse suspicion. Felicity had been the one to suggest a fight over Laurel. He hated the idea. It felt a little too close to home, but Felicity told him it was one of the few things she thought Tommy would believe. 

Oliver wondered if that was because it was something she was actually upset over and just hadn’t told him about it. He’d tried to get an answer out of her, but she’d brushed off his concern and told him the only thing she was worried about was Mueller. Oliver isn’t sure that’s the whole story, but without her talking to him about it, there’s little he can do. 

Tommy stares at him for a solid minute. It’s clear that Tommy has something he wants to say on the matter, but eventually he just shakes his head and lets it go. 

“There’s a lot of attractive women here tonight,” Tommy says, eying a girl wearing what can hardly be called a dress as she walks past them. 

Oliver glares at Tommy, hearing what he isn’t saying. 

“I’m with Felicity,” he says sternly. “I’m not going to mess that up.” 

“Good,” Tommy says. “Because I’d kill you if you did.”

Oliver laughs it off, but Tommy doesn’t join him. He continues to stare Oliver down and it puts him on edge. 

“I’m not joking,” Tommy says. “I can’t control the fact that Laurel still obviously has feelings for you. I knew that when I fell for her. But Felicity deserves a hell of a lot better from you.” 

“There’s nothing to worry about,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense. This is why he’d told Felicity they should come up with a different story. He knew that Tommy would get upset over the thought of anything happening with Oliver and Laurel. It’s clear that he’s in love with her. 

“For her sake, I pray that’s true,” Tommy says. “Felicity and Laurel are too good to be caught up in another Oliver Queen love triangle.” 

Tommy doesn’t give him a chance to respond, instead he walks away to join a crowd of people he clearly knows, even though Oliver’s never seen any of them before. 

Oliver closes his eyes against the rage he feels at being accused of doing something he isn’t. Oliver isn’t in love with Laurel. He isn’t pursuing her in any way. The only feelings he has regarding Laurel are ones of obligation. That’s it. The only girl he’s interested in being with is Felicity. Tommy should believe that. He knows how long Oliver’s been in love with her. 

He looks down at his glass and misses the carefree days of his youth, when he could afford to lose himself. Now, he understands the harsh realities of the world. He can’t afford to have his reflexes slowed down or his senses diminished. Danger will always be around every corner and he has to stay on high alert at all times. 

Complacency leads to mistakes. 

He has many scars that ingrained that lesson into him. He’ll never make it again. 

He dumps his drink into a bush when nobody is looking and goes back to get a refill. He may not be destined to have any fun tonight, but he can at least do his part in maintaining the illusion. 

“Great party,” Lance says to him as he walks past. 

Oliver stops and turns to look at him. There’s a part of him that wants Lance’s approval. That wants to show the man that he’s become more than the careless kid that dragged his daughter out on the Gambit. If Lance can forgive him, then maybe Oliver can start to forgive himself. 

But redemption isn’t something he’s worthy of and this isn’t about him. This is about Lance and giving the man what  _ he _ needs to feel better. And it’s clear what Lance needs is for Oliver to be the villain of the story. 

That’s fine. Oliver is used to that. He paints a smug look on his face. 

“You having fun, Detective?” he asks. 

“I’m going to have fun ID’ing every person at this party and adding providing alcohol to minors to your list of charges,” he says with a smirk. 

“Good thing I didn’t invite anyone underage then,” Oliver says. 

“Sure,” Lance says, clearly not buying it. “I’ll also be catching any party drugs you have floating about. Merlyn’s here, so I know something is going around.” 

Oliver glances over at Tommy quickly before looking back at Lance. He can’t deny that, even if he wants to. He knows the kind of trouble Tommy used to get up to before he left. And if it’s not Tommy, it’ll be somebody. He just hopes that the people here are smart enough not to let it be seen by Lance. Everyone knows he’s a cop. 

“Have fun with that,” Oliver says, patting him on the shoulder. “I’m off to get another drink. Don’t worry, I have my ID on me.” 

Lance scoffs as Oliver walks away. 

Throughout the night, several women come up to him and try to get him to dance, but he doesn’t let anyone get too close. He dances with groups of people, but the second any one girl reaches out for him, he steps away and moves onto the next crowd of people. He has an image to maintain that keeps him from disappearing upstairs for the privacy he seeks, but he refuses to break his promise to Felicity. Especially with the careful way Tommy has been watching him most of the night. 

When he dumps out his fifth glass of champagne, he heads to the bar for his sixth. By his calculations, Digg and Felicity should have stopped the arms deal by now and should be at the bunker debriefing. If he’s lucky, he should only have another hour of this at max before he can steal his girlfriend away upstairs. So long as enough people see them head upstairs, nobody will wonder where he is or think he’s left the property. 

He raises a hand to the bartender to signal that he would like another glass as he digs into his pocket for money to tip the man. A weird feeling goes up his spine and has him turning around to see who’s walking through the door. He isn’t expecting a threat, but he’s always prepared for one. When he sees Laurel, he’s annoyed. How is he supposed to convince Tommy that nothing is going on with them if she’s here at his party? 

“Hello,” he says, trying to hide his annoyance. “Do we have a legal meeting or something because I have friends over.” 

She watches the girl who’s just walked past swinging around handcuffs in disgust before smirking at him. He can tell she’s doing her best not to lecture him like she used to. He knows that look well from when they used to date. She’s not amused. 

“Do you think maybe you can tear yourself away from this inappropriately themed rave for a couple of minutes?” she asks, with a smile, trying to hide her judgment. 

Oliver wants to tell her no and ask her to leave before Tommy sees her here and gets upset, but he can’t. He glances around. So far nobody has noticed she’s here and maybe he can keep it that way. He gestures towards the stairs and they both head up to his room for some privacy. 

“Wow,” she says as he opens the door for her. “I can’t remember the last time that I’ve been in this room.” 

Oliver can. She was asking him to move in together and he’d agreed. He’d felt trapped back then in their relationship, but he didn’t know there was anything better for him out there. He was in love with Felicity who was in love with Cooper. He’d agreed to move in with her and then freaked out. It lead to him drunkenly confessing his love to a grieving Felicity who wasn’t in the right mental place to hear him out. In his anger at the situation, he’d invited Sara on the Gambit. 

All of their lives had been dramatically changed as a result. So yeah, he remembers the last time she was here, but he’s not about to tell her that. No good can come of bringing up their past. 

Laurel sets her purse down and steps into the room. He closes the door to drown out the sound of the party and dissuade any wanderers from joining them. Strictly speaking, upstairs is supposed to be off limits to guests, but there’s always a few who break that rule. 

“So what’s this about?” he asks as she looks around the room curiously. He wonders if she sees what he sees when he looks around: a memorial. This room isn’t his own anymore. It belongs to a boy who died five years ago. 

“I just wanted to come by and apologize for my father’s behavior today,” she says, moving to stand in front of him. 

Too close, if he’s being honest. 

Being around Laurel these days is always strange. When he sees her, he’s reminded of all the horrible things he’s done and he wants so desperately to make up for them. But there’s a line between them that he’s can’t cross — that he has no interest in crossing. He’s in love with Felicity and he won’t do anything that could screw that up. Still, he can’t untangle himself from Laurel. 

“During the polygraph,” she clarifies when he doesn’t say anything. 

Oliver shakes his head. “You don’t have to apologize for him,” he says, truly meaning it. 

The list of people Oliver has wronged in the years since the Gambit is long, but few has he hurt as extensively as the Lance family. Not only was he an asshole to Laurel, but his recklessness got Sara killed. Maybe not on the Gambit like he’s let them believe, but she’d died because of him nonetheless, and more traumatically than she deserved. 

“He has a right to feel any way that he wants,” Oliver says. 

“It wasn’t just Sara, Ollie,” she says.

Oliver hates that she calls him that, but it’s a good reminder of who he was and who he never wants to be again. 

He knows that it wasn’t just Sara he hurt, but he gets the impression that Laurel isn’t talking about herself. 

“What do you mean?” he asks. 

“After Sara died, my father threw himself into his work,” she says. “I think that’s part of the reason I’m an attorney. He ran to the law and I followed. But my mother couldn’t.” 

Oliver has thought about Mrs. Lance often when he reviews his regrets. It hasn’t escaped his knowledge that he hasn’t seen her around town since his return. He’s wondered, but he’s never asked. 

“So she left him,” Laurel says, causing him to grimace. “Left us.” 

Oliver tries to find the words to apologize, but he can’t. The extent to which his actions destroyed their family is neverending. 

“Look, I’m not trying to tell you this to make you feel bad, or worse,” Laurel says. 

Even if it hadn’t been her intent, however, it’s exactly what happened. Oliver feels like a giant asshole. 

“I just, I really want you to understand him,” she says. 

Oliver understands Lance well enough without her help. He, too, has people he cares about and there isn’t a place on Earth that somebody could hide that he wouldn’t find them if anything ever happened to them. So he doesn’t need Lance’s anger explained to him. He gets it. If anything, he’s been impressed with the restraint Lance has shown. The fact that Lance is using legal means to go after him is way more than Oliver would do in his shoes. 

“Why don’t you hate me,” he asks, shaking his head. He doesn’t understand why Laurel isn’t standing next to her father holding a pitchfork of her own. “You should.” 

“I did,” she admits. “For so long, I did, Ollie. But after today, I realized that I was so focused on what happened to my family that I didn’t even stop and wonder what could have happened to you.” 

Oliver looks away from her, fixing his stare at the wall behind her. There’s pity in her voice that he doesn’t want or deserve. He doesn’t want to get into this with her. He doesn’t want to tell her about what he went through on the island. It’s personal and they aren’t those people to each other. Not anymore. Maybe they never were. 

“I didn’t know about the torture or your scars,” she says. 

Instantly, he regrets the fact that he’d admitted as much to her. At the time, it had seemed like an important move in order to convince Lance of his innocence. But now, he’s not sure it was worth it. He never wanted Laurel to see his trauma. Every scar on his body has been well earned. He deserved the pain he was put through for what he did to Laurel and more importantly, what he put Sara through. 

He didn’t tell Laurel about what happened because it would make her sympathetic and he doesn’t want it. 

“What happened to you on that island was far more than you deserved,” she says and he shakes his head. 

She’s only saying that because she doesn’t understand the entire story. She doesn’t know about Ivo or Slade. She doesn’t understand how Sara really died. 

“And I was wrong that I didn’t ask you before, but I’m asking you now,” she says, reaching out to touch him. 

He flinches at the contact. He doesn’t like to be touched. She takes another step forward and her hands go to his top button. He takes a step back, out of her reach. His body isn’t hers to touch and he has no intention of making this a sexual thing. 

“I need to know. I need to see,” she says, her voice pleading and full of pain. 

Oliver doesn’t see how any good can come of this, but he also doesn’t know how to tell her no when she’s telling him point blank what she needs from him. 

His scars are private. Apart from doctors, he’s only ever shown them to Felicity since coming home, and that had been an incredibly intimate moment. His scars make him feel exposed in a way few other things do. Sharing them with Felicity had been intense and he wanted to keep that just between the two of them. 

But this isn’t about his own comfort, this is about Laurel. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking into her eyes to make sure that this is what she wants from him. 

She nods her head. “Yes.” 

He begins unbuttoning his shirt, watching her eyes for any sign of disgust, all he sees is pain. He doesn’t have any intention of showing her the full extent of the damage, but he can show her something. He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and his hands go to his sides as he stares at the wall behind her, begging this moment to be over quickly. 

She reaches up to push his shirt aside and his hands form fists and he tries not to push her away. Every instinct in his body is telling him to run and hide. But it’s not until she actually begins tracing over his scars, much like Felicity tends to do, that he actually pushes her away. He turns his back on her and quickly buttons up his shirt, feeling like he’s just been violated. 

“How did you survive this?” she asks. 

Oliver closes his eyes against the sympathy in her voice. He searches his mind for an answer to give her. Most days, he’s not sure how he made it through. 

“There were times when I wanted to die,” he admits to her. 

He opens his eyes and they immediately land on his desk where two picture frames sit. One is of Felicity back in grade school. She’s holding a massive ice cream cone and there’s probably more ice cream on her face than had made it into her mouth. She’s smiling wide at the camera and he remembers being the one to take that picture and how that smile had made him feel like the luckiest kid in the world. The other picture is of himself holding Thea for the first time in the hospital. 

His girls. 

They were the reason he kept fighting. Hurt and alone with a gun to his head,  _ they _ were what kept him going. The thing that brought him home. 

“In the end,” there was something I wanted more,” he confesses. 

He doesn’t realize it’s the wrong thing to say until she reaches out to touch his arm. He flinches, but she keeps hold of him and walks around to stand in front of him. There are tears in her eyes as she looks at him in a way that’s too familiar. She’s going to kiss him. 

He shakes his head and takes several steps back from her. She moves towards him, but he keeps stepping away until she takes the hint. She scoffs, shaking her head before her face morphs from sympathetic to anger. She turns on her heels and grabs her purse before leaving without another word. 

He has a momentary thought that he should go after her and apologize, but he decides against it. There’s nothing he can say that she’s going to want to hear from him. 

When he looks up at the doorway, Felicity is standing there with her arms crossed. He has no idea how much she’s seen or what she’s thinking. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some people asked- so here you are! A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

Oliver stares at Felicity as she moves into the room and eyes him carefully. Her silence worries him more than anything else. If she isn’t yelling at him, she must be really pissed off. 

“Nothing happened,” he says, praying that she won’t read too much into it. He knows how horrible it looks. A girl in his bedroom would have been bad enough, but Laurel? 

Felicity looks like she wants to say something, but instead she closes her eyes and visibly counts backwards from ten while Oliver shifts awkwardly, unsure of what to do. When she opens her eyes, she smiling, through it looks forced. 

“I trust you,” she says. 

“I didn’t do anything,” he says defensively, hating that she has reasons to doubt him… Valid reasons for which he only has himself to blame. If he could go back in time and stop his younger self from using sex as a weapon in the fight against his parents weighty expectations, he would. Maybe then, she wouldn’t have any reason to question him. 

Felicity closes the door behind her and pulls her tablet out of her purse. She slips out of her shoes and sets her purse down before coming to sit down at the couch. He moves to sit next to her. 

He’s relieved when she doesn’t immediately scoot away from him. 

“I trust you,” she says again, this time sounding more sure of herself. “Besides, even if I didn’t, Laurel running out of here crying and looking pissed off doesn’t exactly scream passionate reunion.” 

Oliver could let it go and move on. He could ask her about the mission and they could brush this under the rug, like he thinks Felicity is wanting to do. He doesn’t. They’d agreed upon honesty earlier, and even if that promise had been for the team, it applies to their relationship as well. If she’s going to trust him, he needs to try his best to start being open with her. 

“She wanted to see me,” Oliver says, still feeling dirty about the fact that he showed Laurel something so personal. 

Felicity nods and plays with something on her tablet. He doesn’t think she gets it. 

“She wanted to see my scars,” he says. 

Felicity looks up at him with wide eyes. Her eyes go to his shirt like she’s looking for evidence of what he’d done, before they move back up to meet his own. 

“Why?” she asks. 

“I’m not sure,” he answers truthfully. “I think she needs to understand what happened.” 

“Did you show her?” she asks. He can’t get a read on how she’s feeling. 

Oliver nods, watching her carefully. Felicity looks surprised. 

“Oh,” is all she says and instantly he feel a million times worse about the entire thing. 

“Nothing happened,” he says again, needing her to believe that. “I got the feeling that she wanted more, but I didn’t give it to her. That was why she left upset. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

Felicity looks at him a good long while without saying a word. He hates that he can’t understand what she’s thinking. He used to be able to read her so well before the Gambit. Since coming back, it’s hit him how much she’s changed and how much they still need to relearn about each other. 

“Maybe Tommy was right,” Felicity says. “You two are like magnets.” 

Oliver shakes his head. So he hadn’t been wrong earlier in thinking that Felicity was more upset about Laurel than she’d let on. She’s talked to Tommy about it. That explains the way Tommy’s been watching him all night. 

“No,” he says. 

“I don’t mean that you’re going to end up with her,” Felicity says, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his knee. “I just mean… Maybe it’s naive to think that you’d be able to stay away from each other.” 

“I will,” he promises. If it’s what she needs from him, he’ll do it. 

“How can you?” she asks. “We all run in the same circles now. You’re going to see each other. And Laurel… I don’t like her very much, but I’m not so heartless that I can’t see she’s hurting. She needs closure and you’re the only one that can give it to her.” 

Felicity shifts closer to him and picks up his hand with her own. She begins tracing the lines of his palm with her fingers. The touch helps to ground him. He takes a steadying breath, letting go of all the anxiety that Laurel’s visit caused. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He knows that it’s his job to help bring the Lance family closure, but he doesn’t see how it’s possible. “There’s nothing I can say that will undo what happened.” 

“No,” she concedes, shaking her head. “But it was one reckless mistake. One that you’ve more than paid the price for. It doesn’t have to define everyone’s life.” 

It’s exactly what Laurel said. His scars were punishment enough for what happened. He’s paid the price and now it’s done. 

But it doesn’t  _ feel _ done. It doesn’t feel like it’s enough. He wishes it was. He wants it to be, but there’s so much damage… 

Felicity turns towards him and reaches up to place her hands on his cheeks. He nuzzles into her touch. 

“Let it go,” she says. “All that guilt will consume you if you let it.” 

He closes his eyes at her words. They are more true than she knows. 

Felicity stands up and holds her hands out for him. He grabs onto them and lets her pull him up off the couch. He happily follows her as she silently leads him over to the bed. She drops his hands and he brings them up to cradle her face, using his thumbs to lovingly stroke her cheeks. Her eyes shine with so much devotion that it leaves him breathless. He cannot wait to spend the rest of his life proving to her how much he loves her. 

Oliver gently reaches up and removes her glasses, setting them on the nightstand. He stands in awe as she slowly unbuttons her sweater, revealing a low cut tank top that has him licking his lips in anticipation. When she’s finished pulling her sweater off, and left in only her skirt and tank top, he leans down and kisses her properly. 

Felicity reaches out and places her hands on his stomach, causing heat to travel through him. He continues to explore her mouth with her tongue while her hands move up his body and land on his shoulders. She pushes him and he lets her, falling back into the bed. He likes when she takes charge. It sends all the blood straight to his dick. 

There’s a determined look in her eye as she crawls into his lap. He’s about to tease her about it, but her hand moves too quickly to cover his mouth. She knows him too well. He licks at her hand until she removes it and wipes it on his shirt, glaring at him. 

Neither of them say a word as she places his hands on her hips. She then wraps her arms around his shoulders. Her lips move to kiss his forehead gently. Then his nose and cheeks, until finally she kisses his lips. He squeezes her hips, encouraging her to continue and she opens her mouth up to him. 

They’ve been having sex almost daily for the last two weeks and it’s never enough. Every time he’s with her, he needs more. Being with her is a like a drug. Now that he’s had a taste, he’s addicted. 

Her hands move around to his chest and her fingers trace soothing circles there as he continues to kiss her with everything he has. She eventually pulls away, gasping for air as she pushes him back into the bed until he’s laying down. His hands move around to rub up and down her thighs as she begins slowly unbuttoning his shirt. This time, when his shirt is pushed to either side to reveal his chest and hands trace his scars, he doesn’t feel dirty. He feels cherished… redeemed. 

She leans over him and places a kiss to his Bratva tattoo before her tongue starts exploring. He’s nervous that she’s going to fall off the bed, so he moves further back. She doesn’t follow him immediately. Instead, her mouth falls to his belly button, where she leaves an open mouth kiss that sends shivers through his body. 

Felicity looks up at him and smirks. She knows exactly the kind of power she can wield with those lips of hers, and he doesn’t care. He’s alright with her knowing exactly how far gone he is when it comes to her, so long as she never leaves him. 

She kisses her way over to his sharkbite and her tongue traces the crescent shaped scar on his side. He reaches out and grabs onto her ponytail, gently yanking on the band until it comes undone. Her hair comes tumbling out, tickling his stomach and hiding her face from his view. He reaches out and brushes it out of the way, cradling the back of her neck to pull her towards him. 

She straddles his hips as he sits up and captures her lips. Her hips rut against him, causing them both to moan. Oliver’s skin feels like it’s on fire. He wraps his free hand around her back and pulls her in closer, thrusting up against her again. He’s hard and searching for a release. 

Felicity’s lips move to mouth at his neck as they continue to move against each other. 

“I love you,” he tells her, because he can’t ever say it enough. 

He loves her and he isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to the euphoria of being able to say it. Of having her here with him after so many years of wanting. He can’t count the number of times he’s laid in this bed and gotten off to the fantasy of her being here with him, but he never thought it would ever actually happen. 

“I love you, too,” she says, pulling back to look at him. 

She’s out of breath and her lips are swollen, but she’s never more beautiful than in these moments when it’s just the two of them and her attention is solely on him. 

The two of them sit like that for a moment, catching their breath and just watching. He often wonders what it is that she sees when she looks at him. What it is that she sees  _ in _ him. Her hand reaches out to brush through his hair and he leans into the touch. 

She notices and smiles down at him with that smile he swears she reserves only for him. 

“I love you,” he says again and she laughs. 

“You just said that,” she says. 

“I don’t care,” he says with a matching smile. 

He reaches out and grabs her shirt, tugging on it until it comes untucked from her skirt. Her hands move above her head and he takes that as permission to pull her shirt off and toss it to the side. When he turns back to look at her, he notices that she’s wearing an  [ orange bra ](https://www.poinsettiastyle.co.uk/products/cleo-lingerie-kali-balconette-bra-burnt-orange-7561) . 

She looks at him in challenge, daring him to say something and he’s more than happy to accept. 

“I thought you refused to dress to theme,” he teases her, running his hands up and down her thigh softly, taking note on how it causes a shiver to through her body. 

“It’s not my pick for theme,” she says. “And I still think it’s tacky, but it’s a theme nonetheless. I couldn’t ignore it completely.” 

“So long as I’m the only one that gets to see you conform, I’m not judging,” he says, 

“You’ll do for now,” she says, reaching out to wrap her arms around his shoulders. 

She licks her lips like she wants a kiss, but he can’t help himself. His lips go straight to the top of her breasts, mouthing at the tiny hearts on the top of her bra. Her hips move against him and prove to be a promising distraction. 

Which is part of the reason it takes him a moment to realize that somebody has knocked on the door. It’s not until Felicity calls out that he even notices that anyone is in the hallway outside. He chastises himself for being so careless. 

“Mr. Queen,” somebody calls out. “If you’re entertaining guests upstairs should I have some drinks sent up?” 

“No, it’s fine,” he calls back, but Felicity pinches him in the side. “What?” he hisses. 

“Champagne,” she commands. “And those mini cheesecakes.” 

She looks at him with that sexy pout of hers and he can’t think of a single protest to such a simple request. He certainly wouldn’t dream of telling her no when she’s on top of him half-dressed, looking like a goddess.  

“On second thought, can you send up a bottle of champagne and a dessert tray?” he calls out. He’s rewarded with Felicity’s lips on his pulse point as her hips start moving again. 

“As you wish, Sir,” the man calls out, but Oliver only barely registers his voice. 

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says through a moan as she nibbles at his neck. 

His hands make their way under her skirt and around to her backside, squeezing her delicious ass. She moans and thrusts against him, sending a wave of desire through him. He wants her, and now. 

Oliver tugs up on her skirt until it’s resting around her hips and he can see her matching orange underwear with little embroidered hearts all over it. 

“This time, you’re going to be the one having to explain why there’s marks all over your body,” she says like it’s some kind of threat. She can do whatever she wants with him, he’ll never complain. He throws his head back to provide her ample access. 

His fingers trace the outline of her underwear and move around to cup her, causing her to moan and bite down harder on his neck. He marvels at how wet she is. He’s eager to get them both undressed, but he’ll let Felicity chose their speed for tonight. 

She reaches down at grabs onto his wrist, holding his hand in place as she grinds against him. 

“Oliver,” she moans heavily into his ear. 

He pushes her underwear to the side and runs his fingers through her wet folds, causing her to cry out. 

“Yes!” She moves her lips from his neck to his ear where she begins panting heavily. 

He pulls back and looks into her eyes, noticing how they are almost completely black with desire. He slips a finger past her folds and into her warm core and revels in the way she bites her lip to hold back a cry. She’s so fucking sexy. He’s completely tied up in watching her come undone at his hands. Every one of his senses is wrapped up in her. 

The doorknob turns, and while it would usually only take him a split second to react to the danger, he is drunk off of Felicity and everything she is making him feel. So it takes him a second or two longer to register the threat. It’s not until the door is open and a man is firing a gun at them that he grabs Felicity around the waist and rolls them off of the bed. 

Quickly, Oliver lets go of her and stands back up. He grabs onto the mattress, pulling it over her, hoping it will provide some kind of protection from their attacker. 

“Stay down” he orders her as Felicity yells out his name. 

Oliver leaps over the bed as the man fires again, drawing the shots away from Felicity. This man is here for him, of that he’s sure. He just needs to make sure that he keeps him away from Felicity so she doesn’t get hurt. Once he’s on the other side of the bed and has drawn the fire away from her, he’s able to let go of his initial panic. He lets Oliver Queen slip away and he transforms into the monster. 

This man has taken a shot at the woman he loves and Oliver is going to kill him. He’s going to make it hurt. 

Oliver grabs onto the nightstand and picks it up easily, the contents falling to the floor in a loud crash. He uses it as a shield as he charges at the man. Once he reaches him, Oliver smacks the man over the head with the nightstand and it falls apart. 

The man loses his footing for a split second, but he doesn’t go down. That’s when he knows he’s dealing with a professional. Oliver grabs onto the man’s arm with one hand and uses his other to hit him in the forearm hard. He hears a sickening crack and the gun falls to the floor. 

It’s a momentary win, but the man reaches out with his free hand and lands a punch to the side of Oliver's head. It’s quickly followed by a hard kick to Oliver’s shin. Oliver uses his body weight against the man and spins him around until he can toss him over the couch. 

The man stands up quickly and reaches for the gun. Oliver would grab it himself, but he’s too far away. Instead, he hops over the back of the couch and kicks both feet into the man’s chest, sending him through the coffee table and into the fireplace. The man stumbles to his feet, and reaches out, grabbing one of the pokers. 

He swings it at Oliver, who has to duck out of the way. The man swings again, and Oliver reaches out to grab onto the end of it. It scratches up his arm, but he’s able to get a firm enough grip to pull the man closer to him and land a punch to his face. The man stumbles backwards, but unfortunately, he stumbles right over to where the gun had fallen. 

He picks it up before Oliver can stop him. He points the gun at Oliver when two shots fire and the man falls to the floor. Oliver stands in shock, hands still shaking with uncontrolled rage. He struggles to catch his breath as Lance steps into the room holding a gun. It takes a moment for Oliver to process that Detective Lance just saved his life. He looks down at the attacker, letting the reality that he’s down for the count sink in. 

Oliver wanted to be the one to kill him. He wanted to wail into him until he passed out from the pain. He wanted to stab the man repeatedly. A part of him had even wanted to torture him. He would have told Felicity it was for information, but really, it would have just been to satisfy the fury moving through him. This man came into his home and pointed a gun at Felicity. 

Felicity. 

He can hear her heavy breathing from all the way over here. It pulls him out from under the mask and Oliver Queen comes slamming back. He takes one last glance at the man to make sure they are safe. Satisfied, he dashes over to the bed and tosses the mattress aside. Now that he’s back to himself, he’s desperate to make sure that Felicity is alright. 

“Oliver,” she cries out as soon as the mattress is gone. 

She immediately throws her arms around his neck and he holds her close. She’s shaking with fear and he rubs soothing circles into her back trying to calm her down. He’s acutely aware of the fact that they are only half dressed and Lance is watching them both. He reaches out and grabs onto the comforter that’s fallen to the floor and wraps it around her, all with one hand. He refuses to let her go. 

He has to admit, he was more scared than he realized at the time. He’s used to people pointing guns at him. What he’s not used to is Felicity being in the room when they do it. 

She pulls away from him and looks him over. Her hands move over his body, checking for injuries. She runs her fingers over his shoulder and pulls back, staring at the blood on her fingers in confusion. It’s strange. Oliver doesn’t remember getting a shoulder injury. The only injury he has is the cut on his forearm from the poker. 

“Oliver?” she says with a shaky breath. 

He looks up at her and that’s when he sees the blood flowing down her chest. A large portion of her bra is stained red and it’s starting to seep through the blanket he’d thrown over her shoulders. 

“Felicity,” he whispers, pushing the blanket aside as terror claws at his heart and his veins turn to ice. 

She’s been shot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the continued support! It really does mean the world to me!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support of this story! Sorry I didn't respond to any of the new comments in the last two days! Things at work have been a bit crazy! I have read them all though and appreciate every last one of them! 
> 
> Some people asked- so here you are! A complete timeline of this series can be found here  
> ([Home Verse Timeline](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13304013))

“Felicity,” he whispers, pushing the blanket aside as terror claws at his heart and his veins turn to ice. 

Blood is pouring out of her shoulder, making it clear she’s been shot. Oliver feels like he’s going to be sick, but he pushes that aside. 

“Call 9-11,” Oliver orders Lance who’s staring at Felicity in horror as he pulls his phone out of his pocket and wastes no time in making the call. 

Felicity looks down at her shoulder in confusion. When she looks back up at him, it’s with wide, terrified eyes. The shock and adrenaline must have kept her from feeling the pain, but he knows from experience that won’t last long. 

Oliver picks Felicity up and carries her to the bathroom, sweeping everything from the counter to the floor as he sets her down next to the sink. He throws open the cabinet and pulls out a first aid kit. He opens it quickly grabbing the alcohol. He then dumps the bottle over one of his hand towels to disinfect it before he presses it into her shoulder. She hisses in pain and he apologizes. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he says as he blinks away the water from his eyes and focuses on her injury and not the way his hands are shaking. He’s not sure if he’s trying to convince her of that or himself. “It’ll be okay.” 

He looks for an exit wound, but doesn’t immediately find one, which means the bullet is still likely inside of her and possibly doing unimaginable damage. 

“I got shot?” she asks him, sounding dazed. She’s turning pale and her skin is sweaty. He prays that the bullet isn’t making it’s way to her heart right now. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he tells her as he pushes down harder on the wound trying to stop the bleeding. The blood has already soaked through the towel and he’s worried that she’s losing too much of it too quickly. 

Lance comes into the bathroom, his phone to his ear. 

“Ambulance is on the way,” he informs them as he moves to inspect the wound. 

“You,” Felicity says with more venom than Oliver thought possible from her, and he’s been on the receiving end of her loud voice on more than one occasion. 

“You’re going to be okay,” Lance tells her, but she shakes her head. 

“You did this,” she tells him. 

“You’re delirious,” Lance says before turning back to the phone to tell the dispatcher more information about her injury. 

“He arrested you,” Felicity whispers harshly, even as her eyes grow heavy. “He’s the reason that man attacked you.” 

She’s struggling to keep her eyes open and Oliver panics. He can’t lose her, not now. Not like this. 

“Where the hell is that ambulance?” he snaps at Lance. 

“It’s five minutes out,” Lance says. “Keep pressure on the wound.” 

“I’m trying,” he says, reaching out to grab another towel from the rack and placing it on top of the blood-soaked one. He’s holding the towel with both of his hands, but still, it doesn't feel like enough. 

He needs to get the bullet out of her and close the wound, but he doesn’t have any tools or painkillers here. All he has are some gauze and basic first aid supplies. Felicity is strong, but he’s pretty sure she’d pass out if he went digging into her wound with his fingers. Besides, they aren’t on the island. They have access to real medical help. He needs to be patient and wait for a doctor to help her, no matter how much his body is screaming at him to do something now. 

“Stay with me,” he begs as her head falls back and smacks the mirror hard, leaving a long crack in the glass. 

“Lance,” Oliver says and quickly Lance moves to his side and cradles Felicity’s head so she doesn’t injure herself any further. 

Felicity reaches out with her free hand to grab onto Oliver’s wrist and squeezes it. He thinks it’s her way of offering him support without having to talk. He needs it. She may be the one that got shot, but he’s the one watching his entire life fade before him. 

Oliver hears two pairs of feet rush into his bedroom and gasp, he can only assume it’s at the dead body. 

“Ollie!” Thea cries out. 

“Stay back!” he calls after her, but it’s too late. Tommy and Thea are already at the bathroom door and he hears Thea’s cry at the same moment Tommy curses. 

“What the hell happened?” Tommy asks, rushing to Felicity’s side and pushing Lance out of the way so that he can be the one to cradle her head. “Oh god, Lis?” 

Felicity just hums at him and tries to offer Tommy a smile, but she’s growing weak. 

Oliver looks up into the mirror and sees Thea standing in the doorway looking traumatized. That’s when Oliver sees his own reflection and realizes he’s wearing the exact same expression. 

“I got shot,” Felicity whispers. She lets go of Oliver’s wrist to place it on Tommy’s chest, leaving a giant red handprint on the front of his shirt. 

Tommy’s eyes go back and forth from the wound, to Felicity, to Oliver. Oliver can see him spiraling as he struggles to process. 

“What?” Tommy says, shaking his head. 

“Somebody attacked us,” Oliver explains. “I couldn’t… I didn’t move in time.” 

The scene comes flashing back, hitting him harder than a ton of bricks. He’d let himself get distracted. He hadn’t been aware of his surroundings. He didn’t pull her out of the way in time. 

Oliver is the reason she got shot. 

His breathing grows quicker and he is about two seconds from losing his goddamn mind. There is a very real possibility that he might actually lose Felicity. 

“Take a deep breath,” Tommy says and Oliver thinks he’s talking to him. He’s about to snap that he doesn’t need Tommy’s help when he realizes that Felicity is starting to panic as well. Tommy is trying to calm her down. 

“You need to chill,” Tommy whispers to him. “You’re freaking her out.”

“I don’t want to die,” she cries, her voice weak and breathing quick. 

“You won’t,” Tommy tells her. “Oliver has you. Just focus on the air coming through your lungs. Pay attention to the way your body reacts—” 

“Are you rehabbing me?” Felicity says with a weak laugh that quickly turns into a cough. 

“I am if it’s working,” Tommy says, stroking her cheek. “Stay awake for me Smoak.” 

“Oh God,” Thea says from her spot by the door. “She’s going to be okay, right?” 

“It’s her shoulder, not her heart,” Tommy says, clearly trying to reassure them all. “Thea, go wait downstairs for the ambulance so they know where to find us when they arrive.” 

Thea nods and leaves the room. 

“She’s losing too much blood,” Oliver whispers quietly, hoping that Felicity is too out of it to hear. He doesn’t want to worry her. 

Tommy looks at him, his face as white as a ghost. He’s just as terrified as Oliver. 

“You have to do something,” Tommy says. 

Oliver’s trying. God, he’s trying. He’s using all of his strength to press down on her wound to try and stop her from bleeding out, but it’s not enough… Story of his life. He’s never enough. 

“The ambulance is here,” Lance says, hanging up the phone. 

Oliver breathes a sigh of relief that help has arrived and prays that it’s done so in time. 

“Come on,” Oliver says, about to let go, but Lance stops him. 

“No, wait for the paramedic,” he instructs him and Oliver nods, maintaining pressure on the wound. 

A moment later, the paramedics arrive and push Lance and Tommy out of the bathroom. They help Felicity onto a stretcher before taking over for Oliver. They wrap the towel to hold it in place and quickly put her on oxygen before they are ready to transport her. 

“We’re taking her to Starling General,” one of the paramedics tells him. “You can meet her there.” 

Felicity begins pulling at the mask on her face with one hand and reaching for Oliver with the other. 

“I’m not leaving her,” Oliver says firmly, his voice low and leaving no room for argument, as he grabs onto her hand. 

The paramedics both look at each other, before one of them sighs. They must realize it’s not worth the fight, because one of them says, “You can come, but you stay out of the way,” 

Oliver quickly agrees. 

“Oliver, your monitor,” Tommy reminds him. 

Oliver looks down at his ankle. He’s still on house arrest. He’s not supposed to leave the house. He glares at Lance, daring him to stop him. He’s going to the hospital, even if he gets thrown in prison for it. Felicity needs him and no force on Earth is going to stop him. 

Lance grows a heart though and he quickly waves him on. “Go, I’ll be right behind you.” 

Tommy scoffs. “It’s the least you could do.” 

Felicity settles down at the news that he’s coming with her. They quickly make their way to the ambulance, amidst a large waiting crowd. Oliver does his best to use his body to shield Felicity from the countless camera phones, but he knows that plenty of people get their shot. 

He looks back at the house, searching for a familiar face. When he sees the manor’s head of security, Hank, he gestures to the crowd. Hank nods his understanding. He’ll take care of the phones. The last thing Oliver wants is for Felicity to be on the front page of the Starling Gazette wearing only a bra, covered in blood. As it is, the shooting will already be the front page news. He doesn’t need a photo of them barely dressed to surface and add any additional scandal to the situation. 

Oliver climbs into the ambulance with her and they quickly take off towards Starling General. He tries to remember to breathe as he watches the paramedic move around Felicity and begin treating her. She passed out a minute or two ago, and that has him worried. Looking into her eyes, he’d been able to convince himself that everything is still right with the world… But now? Reality is setting in and he tries to mentally prepare his heart for the worst. 

“She’s going to be okay, right?” Oliver asks, terrified of the answer. 

“She needs blood,” the paramedic says. “And a lot will depend on what that bullet is doing inside of her.” 

Oliver nods his head and reaches out to take Felicity’s hand. “Please don’t leave me,” he whispers, squeezing her hand tight. 

He closes his eyes as they fill with tears and he begins to mumble a prayer. It’s been years since he’s tried to pray. He learned pretty early on during his time away that God didn’t give a damn about him and he stopped trying. However, this is Felicity and he has to believe that no greater power would punish him by taking her away. She’s too good. Too pure. 

He starts to cry as he realizes just how stupid he’d been to think he could have her. Of course knowing him put her life in danger. He should have known better than to think things would end up any differently. 

The people he cares about — The ones he lets into his heart — They always die. 

“Please don’t take her from me,” he whispers as he holds her small hand in both of his and brings it up to his face to pray properly. 

“Please,” he cries. “I won’t survive it. Please… Please don’t take her. Take me instead. Please.” 

He overhears the paramedic that’s driving call out that they are here. Oliver pulls back and lets go of Felicity’s hand as he wipes his eyes, using his sleeves since his hands are covered with her blood. The back doors to the ambulance open. Oliver steps out, buttoning his shirt as he goes. They then pull Felicity out and begin rattling off her stats and symptoms to a doctor. Oliver follows after her until a nurse finally stops him and tells him that he has to wait in the lobby. 

“Please,” he begs her. “Please help her.” 

“We’ll do everything we can,” she says kindly, gesturing for him to sit down. They’ll come and call him when they have news. 

Oliver sinks into a chair and buries his face in his hands as he begins to sob. He’s not usually one to cry. He’s learned to control his emotions because they are a sign of weakness. But this is too much. She is the only good thing he has in his life. He can’t lose her. He won’t survive it. 

A few minutes later, Oliver hears Lance and the others run into the lobby and ask the front desk about Felicity. He doesn’t look up, but he does try and slow down his breathing and get his sobs under control. Two bodies sink into chairs on either side of him. Small hands reach out and wrap themselves around his right arm and Thea’s head falls to his shoulder. A larger hand falls to his back and rubs comforting circles onto it. 

“She’ll be okay,” Tommy says. 

Oliver nods, his agreement. He doesn’t know if he believes it, but he needs to. He wipes his eyes with his sleeves again before he sits up in his seat. 

“I should have pulled her out of the way faster,” Oliver says. 

“Of a gun?” Tommy asks. “Ollie, you’re not a superhero. You’re lucky you didn’t both get killed.”

Oliver doesn’t accept that. He has the skills. He has the training. He could have easily saved her. He just didn’t. 

He closes his eyes and a different, equally traumatizing moment makes its way to the surface. Ivo was holding a gun at Sara and Shado, telling him to chose. He wasn’t fast enough then, and he lost Shado. The women who fall in love with him always suffer because of it. 

Why did he let Felicity in? Why did he open her up to the endless cycle of death his life has become? 

“I need air,” Oliver says, standing up. He walks out of the lobby and goes to stand outside. Somebody follows him out the door and he’s about to snap at Tommy that he just wants space when he turns and sees that it’s Lance. 

“Sorry,” Lance says and Oliver thinks he might actually mean it, oddly enough. “As long as you have that thing on, where you go, I go.” 

Oliver looks down at his ankle monitor which is blinking red, signalling he’s out of zone. He realizes that he doesn’t even know how the mission with Digg and Felicity went. He’d never asked. Not that it matters much now. If Felicity dies, they can lock him away forever. He won’t fight it. 

“So you really like this Smoak girl, huh?” Lance asks. 

Oliver glares at him. 

“I always assumed she had a thing going with Merlyn,” Lance says, earning him another glare. 

“They’re just friends,” he grumbles. 

He’d come out here for space, not conversation. If he wanted to talk, there’s better company inside. 

“She seems like a good kid,” Lance says. “I hope she pulls through.” 

Oliver’s eyes well up at his words as he pictures what will happen if she can’t. He is going to go insane if he can’t stop picturing Felicity bleeding out on him. 

He leans back against the brick wall of the building and closes his eyes. He tries to center his mind. He pictures a candle and takes a deep breath in through his nose. He imagines that he can smell the flame burning before he breathes out through his mouth. In… And out… And again. 

Once his breathing is slowed down, he listens to the words Tatsu told him a few years ago when she’d taught him how to clear his mind. 

“You’re floating into nothingness. All that exists is your breath. Any thoughts you have are clouds,” Tatsu says. “They just drift away.”

A memory resurfaces. He’s on the playground chasing after Tommy. They can’t be more than five or six. He’s racing down the slide when something compels him to look out towards the parking lot. That’s when he sees her for the first time. 

Felicity. 

Her frizzy, brown hair is tied up on top of her head in a haphazard bun and she’s clutching her Wonder Woman lunchbox to her chest — No, that’s wrong. She had a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lunchbox, he remembers as the memory becomes more clear in his mind.

She has glasses on her face that only magnify the fact that she’s crying. Two girls —Oliver recognizes them as second graders — are standing over her calling her names. Oliver instantly feels a deep need to protect her. So he marches over and throws himself in front of Felicity and tells the girls off until they run away crying to the teacher about how mean Ollie Queen is being to them. 

When Oliver turns to look at Felicity, she’s wiping her eyes and her lunchbox has fallen out of her hand. He bends over to pick it up for her, smiling at her Wonder Woman shoes. 

He says something about how he likes superheroes, too. It makes her smile. He remembers how good it feels to be the one to make her happy after she’s been crying. He remembers thinking that he always wants to be the one to make her smile. 

Tommy calls out for him to come and catch him, but Oliver ignores him in favor of talking to Felicity. He’s ecstatic when he finds they are in the same class. Tommy had been put into the other first grade class and their moms said it was because they caused their kindergarten teacher such a headache being together. Oliver’s relieved to know he’ll have a friend in first grade to play with. 

He doesn’t care that her elephant T-shirt has a hole in it or that her jeans are stained from paint. The kids at school call her a scholarship kid, but Oliver only know that she’s pretty and really funny and he always wants to be around her. 

A hand shakes him out of his memory and he glances around, confused to find himself sitting on the ground outside and shivering. Thea is sitting next to him, holding wads of bloody paper towels that he realizes she must have used to clean him up at some point, because his hands are no longer covered in Felicity’s blood. He wonders how long he’s been sitting out here lost in thought, or how he’d been so out of it that he hadn’t noticed the world going on around him. 

“The doctor has news,” Tommy says, giving him a sympathetic smile. 

Instantly, Oliver stands up and runs back inside to where the doctor is waiting.

“You’re Oliver Queen?” the doctor asks and he nods. 

“Is she okay?” he asks. 

“I can’t talk to you about her condition, because you’re not family,” the doctor says and Oliver is about to raise holy hell in order to get an update, but Tommy reaches out to place a calming hand on his shoulder. 

“What I can tell you is that she’s awake and asking for you,” the doctor says. “Would you like me to show you back?” 

Oliver nods as his voice fails him. She’s awake. He hasn’t lost her yet. 

“Can we all come?” Tommy asks, sounding desperate. 

“I’m sorry,” the doctor says. “Our ER has strict rules about only having one visitor at a time. I’ll have a nurse come get you when we get her moved upstairs.”

Tommy nods, but looks upset. Oliver knows that he must be going through his own mental hell. His mother was shot and killed. Oliver is sure this brings back traumatic memories for him. He reaches out and places a comforting hand on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I’ll let you know how she’s doing,” Oliver says. 

“Thanks,” he says with a shaky smile, looking like he’s about to cry. Thea wraps her arms around Tommy and Oliver gives him one last sympathetic smile before he follows the doctor back. Lance trails after them and Oliver tries not be annoyed by his shadow. At least Lance hasn’t arrested him yet for breaking house arrest. 

“We’re still waiting for a room to open upstairs,” the doctor explains. 

“I want her in a private room,” Oliver instructs. “My family has a suite here.” 

“Of course, Mr. Queen,” he says, gesturing towards a door on his right. 

“I’ll be right out here,” Lance says, nodding towards a chair that’s setup outside of the room. 

Oliver steps in and sees Felicity laying on the hospital bed. The color is starting to return to her cheeks. She’s hooked up to several machines, and he can see she’s still attached to a blood bag. They haven’t finished her transfusion. He sighs in relief. The more blood she gets, the better she’ll be. 

She gives him a small smile, looking relieved to see him. She holds out her hand and he moves to her side and takes it in both of his own. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says, starting to cry. 

“Shhhh.” 

She still sounds weak, but not as weak as she’d been before, so it’s something. 

“I figured you’d be beating yourself up,” she says with a deep sigh, signalling how tired she truly is. She should be sleeping, not trying to make him feel better. 

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. There’s so much he needs to say to her. He wants to tell her this won’t happen again. He needs to promise her that he’ll take a step back… But he can’t find the words. He doesn’t know if he actually has the strength to walk away from this, even when it’s the right thing to do. 

“Oliver, look at me,” she whispers. 

He takes a deep breath, forcing the tears back, before he meets her eyes. 

“You didn’t do this,” she tells him. 

“I did.” He shakes his head. 

“Really?” she asks. “You shot me? I thought it was that waiter with the gun.” 

“It’s not funny,” he argues with a roll of his eyes. 

“I’m gonna be fine,” she tells him. “They’ve already taken the bullet out and everything.” 

He tries to let her words sink in, but it’s hard when he still has her blood all over his shirt and the vivid image of her bleeding out in his bathroom. She squeezes his hand and gives him a shaky smile as she closes her eyes. 

A nurse comes in a few minutes later to check on her progress. She looks at the blood bag that is half-empty and makes a note on her chart before taking some of Felicity’s vitals. Felicity sleeps through the entire thing. 

“She’s incredibly lucky,” the nurse tells him. “The doctors say another inch and she would have hit an artery. She would have bleed out before she ever made it here.” 

Oliver closes his eyes tight at her words. He came too close tonight. She could have died in that bathroom and he wouldn’t have been able to do a damn thing about it. 

The nurse reaches out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and the unfamiliar contact makes him flinch. The nurse quickly removes her hand and smiles at him in apology. 

“She’ll be alright after some rest,” the nurse says before making one last note on Felicity’s chart. She asks him if he needs anything, and when he says no, she leaves. 

“Hear that?” Felicity says, her eyes remaining closed. 

“I thought you were sleeping,” he says. 

She shrugs before wincing at the pain. “I’m just resting my eyes.” 

Oliver can’t help by snort at that. He’s lost count of the amount of times she’s fed him that line. 

“Oliver?” she whispers and he hums in response to let her know he’s listening. “Have you called my mom?” 

Oliver freezes. He hasn’t even thought about reaching out to Donna. She’s most certainly going to hear about what’s happened though. There’s no way this doesn’t make the news. 

“I… uh…” he tries to come up with an excuse for why he hasn’t called her, but there isn’t one. 

“Have Tommy call,” she says. 

Oliver looks at the door, then back to her. He’s scared to leave her side. What if something happens to her? She squeezes his hand. 

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” she says, leaving no room for discussion. 

Oliver kisses her forehead before reluctantly leaving the room, Lance following after him. He heads to the lobby where he notices that Digg is now pacing in front of Thea and Tommy. 

“How is she?” Digg asks as Tommy and Thea move to stand. 

It doesn’t escape Oliver’s notice that Tommy’s eyes are puffy and bloodshot. 

“She got lucky,” he says the words, almost robotically. “Another inch and she would have hit an artery and wouldn’t have made it. She’s getting blood now and will be fine with a bit of rest.” 

They all breathe a sigh of relief and Thea reaches out to wrap her arms around Tommy. 

“See,” she whispers. “She’s okay.” 

A wave of jealousy hits him hard, but he tries his best to ignore it. Now isn’t the time or place to try and examine Tommy’s feelings for Felicity. 

“Felicity asked if you’d call Donna,” Oliver tells him. “I can get you her number if you need—”

“I already did,” Tommy cuts him off. “There are no commercial flights out of Vegas tonight, but I sent a jet.” 

Oliver nods. It’s probably not weird that Tommy has Donna’s number. After all, he is Felicity’s roommate. 

“I should get back to her,” he says, pointing back towards the hallway where the patient rooms are. 

The three of them nod their understanding. 

“Tell her that we’re all here,” Thea says. 

“I will,” he says with a tense smile before he turns on his heel and heads back. 

“I’m glad she’s going to be okay,” Lance says as they both walk towards her room. 

Oliver doesn’t answer him. Okay isn’t the term he would use. Felicity was shot and almost died tonight. He’s not sure if anything is ever going to be okay again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments make my day! Let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I thought this would be a 4 part story... but then I decided to add the opening scene of this chapter with Tommy and I figured that people would want to see the scene from "More I Cannot Wish You" where Felicity comes home high from Oliver's point of view. So this will be a little bit longer than originally anticipated. I'm assuming nobody minds ;)

Oliver sits in the chair next to Felicity’s bed staring at the door, begging himself to run. Trying to find the courage to do what he knows is the right thing and leave Felicity to have the life she deserves. Just being here with her now is tempting fate. Every noise has him jumping around looking for the next threat. 

Though the man that attacked them has been killed, he’d only been the muscle. The person who wanted Oliver dead is still out there. He should be hitting the streets hunting down a lead. Sitting here, staying by her side, is dangerous. He could be leading more trouble right to her doorstep. 

He looks over at the bed, where she’s sleeping soundly. The color is returning to her face. Her lips are no longer blue, but she’s still got a ways to go before she’s herself again. Sleeping as she is, she looks so delicate. She would kill him if he said it aloud, but she looks fragile. Like one strong wind could take her away from him. Forever. 

He looks back to the door and tries to figure out what it is that he’s still doing here. He knows better. He’s long since given up wanting anything from life. He’s stronger than his desires. So why can’t he give her up? 

The answer is incredibly simple and yet so complicated. 

Felicity is his strength, but she’s also his weakness. She’s the greatest connection he has to his humanity. He should push it away, but he doesn’t. Deep down, he yearns to be rid of the monster he’s become. Without her, he fears that’ll never happen. 

He closes his eyes and forces himself to see her bleeding out. To remember how weak she’d been in what could have been — what really should have been — her last moments. She’d been lucky this time. She won’t be so lucky next time. That’s the image he wants to remember when he thinks of her. It’ll make things easier for him. 

Oliver stands up on shaky legs and forces one foot in front of the other as he walks to the door. He needs to make his escape quickly, while everyone else is still out. He’ll cave if anyone asks him to stay. He’s too weak. He has to do this now. 

He opens the door quietly, praying that she remains asleep, then he slips out of the room and heads to the elevator quickly and efficiently. He’s mastered the art of being invisible and in this moment, he’s grateful. He is down the elevator and out onto the street in minutes. 

The cool night air hits his lungs and he takes in a deep, shaky breath. Every cell in his body feels like it’s being pulled back inside, but he ignores it. He’s had this feeling before. When he’d returned to Starling City with Amanda Waller and Maseo. He was strong enough to leave then and he can do it again. 

He wonders if it’s enough just to leave Felicity. The temptation to return will be great and he doesn’t trust himself to stay away for long. He should go underground. Move to the second bunker he setup for emergencies. Otherwise, Felicity will come after him. 

The city is calm. This late at night the bars have all been closed and the partygoers have all returned home. The only people up moving around are just starting their day. They are the bakers and the baristas. The newspaper delivery men. Even the criminals have called it a night by now as the sun starts to creep it’s way towards the horizon. 

It’s a new day. 

He takes a deep breath and starts walking. As the sun begins to rise, he lets the light soak into his skin and tells himself that this is enough. All he’s ever needed to keep going before is the memory of her. He’s survived hell with just a memory. He can survive this. 

He walks until he hits the bay. He hadn’t been heading there purposefully, but it seems fitting that he ended up here. He heads down the stairs and takes a seat on one of the benches overlooking the water. Around him, workers are starting to roll out their coffee carts, preparing for the morning commute. From this spot on the boardwalk, he can see the Glades. It doesn’t appear nearly as foreboding from this view as he’s always been led to believe. 

Then again, the worst criminals in the city are located downtown. They’re the bottom feeders that fed on the weak and landed themselves in penthouse apartments and have top floor offices with a view. That’s where Oliver should be focusing all of his attention and free time. He might only bring death and destruction to his life, but he can at least aim that mayhem at a deserving target instead of the woman he loves. 

“You know, Felicity keeps telling me how much you’ve changed, and yet? Here you are.” 

Oliver turns around to see Tommy standing at the top of the stairs. 

In hindsight, he could have worked harder to pick a better place to hideout. Returning to his old spot had been a rather obvious move. Then again, maybe a part of him wanted to get caught. 

Oliver turns back around and stares out at the water as Tommy buys them both a coffee and bagel from one of the carts before coming to sit next to him. The two of eat their breakfast in silence as they watch the sunrise. Oliver can tell that Tommy is angry. His hands clench into fists repeatedly and the vein in his forehead looks about ready to pop. When they finish their breakfast, Tommy takes the trash and goes to throw it away. When he comes back, he doesn’t sit. Instead, he stares Oliver down. 

“Why don’t we pretend that you just needed some air and head back to the hospital,” Tommy says. “If we hurry, she never even has to know you left.” 

Oliver shakes his head. The offer is tempting. So tempting, but he can’t. He won’t drag her down with him. Not anymore.

“Damnit Oliver,” Tommy says, looking like he’s about to punch him. Oliver wishes he would. His body has been on edge ever since Lance killed that assassin and ended the fight prematurely. He’s itching for something he can direct his rage at. 

Tommy runs his hands through his hair before he brings them together and looks like he’s praying. 

Oliver wonders if he’s praying for the strength not to kill him. He wouldn’t blame Tommy. Oliver wishes he could kick his own ass for putting Felicity’s life in such danger. 

“I am trying  _ very _ hard to be understanding right now,” Tommy says carefully. “Because you’ve been away for awhile and I know that had to be traumatizing. But you are making it very hard to be sympathetic right now.” 

“I don’t want your sympathy,” he says. “Go back to the hospital, Tommy. Felicity needs you.” 

“Felicity doesn’t need me, you asshole,” Tommy practically shouts. “She needs  _ you _ !” 

Oliver shakes his head but Tommy keeps going. “For the past five years she’s needed you and you haven’t been there. And you know what, you get a pass. Your boat sank and you were shipwrecked. So I can forgive you for leaving her like you did, because you couldn’t help it. But you can help it now and I swear to god, if you leave her willingly, I will kill you. I will go into my father’s safe, get his gun, and  _ kill _ you.” 

Oliver looks up at Tommy. He doesn’t understand. How could he. What does he know about true darkness? If he understood what Oliver’s life has become — what  _ he’s _ become — he would be the first person telling Oliver to stay away. 

“You think I want to leave her?” Oliver asks. “I almost killed her last night. She’s better off.” 

Tommy takes several deep breaths as he runs his hands through his hair, trying to calm down. Neither of them say anything for several minutes. Eventually, Tommy sits down next to him. 

“The Gambit disappeared a month after Cooper died,” Tommy says. “You know that right? I know you do, because you held her when she cried and helped her withdraw from school when it happened. You helped her through fucking panic attacks when it happened. So I know you understand the state she was already in  _ before _ you went and died on her.” 

Oliver winces. He knows that things couldn’t have been easy when he left, but he doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking about how things were for them. No matter what they were going through, they were a million times better off than he was on Lian Yu. Knowing that they were out there, living their lives, no matter how much they missed him… Knowing they weren’t anywhere near the hellhole he’d found himself in? It gave him comfort. 

So no. He’s never spent a lot of time thinking about how things must have been for Felicity when he left, beyond thinking about the moments he’s missed out on. 

“She was a wreck. She cried herself to sleep most nights. And not just for the first few months, for  _ years _ . You were her everything. There wasn’t anything she could do or any place she could go that wasn’t seeped in memories of you, and that haunted her,” Tommy says. “Don’t you dare sit there and tell me she’s better off without you. I’ve seen her without you and I never want to see that again.” 

Oliver’s head falls into his hands and he rubs his face as he takes in Tommy’s words. He hates to think of Felicity hurting like that. It breaks his heart to know that his absence caused her such torment. But crying in her bed every night is still better off than bleeding out from a gunshot wound. 

“Let’s go,” Tommy says. Oliver sits up and looks at Tommy. 

“I can’t,” he says.

Tommy’s face tightens and Oliver can see him literally holding himself back. 

“Just because you hold a match, doesn’t mean you have to burn your world to the ground,” Tommy says, standing up and holding out his hand. 

Oliver doesn’t take it, but he does let those words sink in. 

Is that what he’s doing? Burning everything to the ground just because he can? 

“You and I might both know that you’re an asshole, but that girl…” Tommy pauses as he sniffles, just barely holding back tears. “She thinks you’re a hero. Ever since you first met. Don’t.. Please don’t let her wake up and find you’re not there.” 

Oliver isn’t sure why he does it. Maybe he’s trying to start a fight so that he won’t have to make a decision. Maybe he’s just trying to prove to Tommy that he is in fact an asshole. He doesn’t know for sure. 

“Are you in love with her?” Oliver asks. 

Tommy stares at him for a solid minute. Oliver can’t get a read on him and it’s unnerving. He has no idea what Tommy is thinking. Eventually, he rolls his eyes. 

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” Tommy says. “Fuck you, okay? Just… Fuck you.” 

Tommy’s phone chimes and he digs into his pocket to pull it out. 

“Great,” he grumbles, cursing under his breath as he reads the text message he just got. “She woke up and  _ neither _ of us were there. Well done, Oliver.” 

Tommy claps his hands as he shoots daggers at him with his eyes. “I thought you were a pro at destroying things before the island, but I was wrong. This is truly something else.” 

Oliver sighs and sinks back down into the bench. With Felicity awake, he feels the pressure lift off of his shoulders. The decision has already been made. She knows that he’s gone. She can get upset. She can hate him for what he’s done. Then she can start to move on. 

It’s for the best. 

Oliver stares out at the water and tries to ignore the ache in his heart that calls out for her. The heartache he feels now doesn’t hold a candle to what he would feel if she died. He can do this. He’s numb to misery. Emotions are a weakness. 

Tommy’s phone rings and Oliver watches him out of the corner of his eye, trying to appear uninterested. Tommy paints a smile on his face and answers the phone with more cheer than is necessary so early in the morning. 

“Hey, Donna… No… We’re just grabbing breakfast… Yeah… Tell Felicity we’ll be back in a few. We were just getting coffee for her. The hospital stuff is crap… I’m sure she’s  _ not _ allowed to have coffee, but you try telling her that… Yeah… We’ll be there soon… Yes,  _ both _ of us.” 

Tommy hangs up the phone and Oliver glares at him. 

“I didn’t say I was going with you,” he grumbles. 

“Well, now Donna told Felicity that you were,” Tommy says. “So suck it up, Buttercup. You can have an existential crisis on another day. This day isn’t about you. It’s about your girlfriend who almost died last night. And that girlfriend is asking where we both are. So let’s go.” 

Tommy walks over to the coffee cart and buys another round of coffee as Oliver contemplates his options. He could leave right now. He could slip away easily before Tommy even has to notice he’s gone. It’s his best option. Or he could go back like his heart is telling him to do. 

Amanda Waller made sure he knew how incredibly stupid it was to follow his heart instead of his head. Emotional moves are rarely logical. He hates that bitch with a fiery passion, but he can’t deny she taught him a lot of valuable lessons that have kept him alive. 

Tommy hands him a coffee and he turns it down. “I don’t need another one, thanks,” he says. 

“It’s not for you, dumbass,” Tommy says. “People that abandon their girlfriends in the hospital and refuse to come back don’t get coffee. It’s for Felicity.”

“I told you—” he starts to argue but Tommy cuts him off. 

“You’re not coming back, yeah,” he says. “Heard you loud and clear. I’m giving you a free ticket out of the doghouse. Bring Felicity a coffee and we can both pretend that was the plan all along.” 

Oliver reaches out and takes the coffee, even though he still doesn’t plan on going back to the hospital. He can’t… He shouldn’t… 

“Or sit here like a martyr and wait for Donna to come and find you,” Tommy says. “Because you know she will and what she will have to say to you won’t be nearly as kind as I’ve been.” 

Oliver could pretend that the reason he stands up and starts walking towards the hospital is the fear of Donna Smoak. Really, he’s just weak. It’s been less than an hour and he already can’t stand being away. 

He really is a selfish motherfucker. If Tommy really loved Felicity, he would have punched Oliver and forced him to stay away. Reality is catching up to Oliver and is refusing to let him have anything beautiful or perfect in his life. Oliver hasn’t earned a happy ending. He’s not sure he ever will. He’s done too much damage in his life. 

Felicity getting shot was a warning. Ignoring it like he’s about to do may be the stupidest thing he ever does. However, Oliver is greedy and weak. He needs her too much to find the strength to stay away like he should. 

**** 

Oliver stands by the window, staring out into the city, purposefully shutting everything out for fear that he’s going to snap. The doctors think that Felicity’s ready to leave, but he disagrees. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since the shooting where she almost lost her life. She’s still doped up on pain meds and is likely going to need PT for her shoulder.

He requested a second opinion, but Felicity shut him down. Nobody else besides him is willing or cares to fight her on that. They think he’s just being overprotective. They don’t understand. They are still riding the high of their own relief. He’s the only one being sensible around here. 

Tommy and Donna move around behind him, trying to get ready to leave despite his protests. Donna’s fussing over her like she’s been doing since she arrived. Tommy’s gathering up all of the gifts people have sent Felicity — and really, the sheer amount she’s received in less than 24 hours just goes to show how much better of a person Felicity is than him. They are waiting for the doctors to come back in with the paperwork and then, Felicity will be free to go. 

Oliver is terrified. 

His hands are shoved into his pockets so that nobody can see how they are curled into fists and shaking. He needs to punch something and hard. He wants to escape to the bunker where he can spend several hours beating into one of his dummies. He wants to put on his hood and hit the streets despite the fact that it’s still daylight and he only just had the charges against him dropped late last night. He needs to do something that isn’t sitting in this hospital room completely helpless. 

But then he thinks about leaving her when she’s so vulnerable and all he can see is her bleeding out on his bathroom counter. He can still feel her blood coating his hands as he tries to stop her from dying on him. 

Oliver’s had the charges against him dropped, but what if that’s not enough? What if they still come after him and they do it through Felicity? Everyone knows who she is now. Thanks to SCNN, the entire city knows that they are in a relationship. This is a ticking time bomb. He’d been given the option to leave and he’d ignored it. Now it’s just a matter of time before karma catches up with him. 

Felicity is safer being held at a distance. He never should have brought her into his life when he returned. Maybe then — Maybe if he didn’t know what it felt like to be held by her in the middle of the night when his nightmares are the worst — Maybe then he would be able to stay away. He shouldn’t have let Tommy bring him back after he’d finally built up the courage to leave. One look into Felicity’s warm eyes when he walked through the door carrying her coffee, and he’d been a goner. 

“Andrew Faulsted,” Tommy says. “Why do I know that name?” 

“Ugh,” Felicity grumbles. “Work.” 

“Is that the prick who’s been gunning for your job?” Donna asks. 

Oliver doesn’t turn around to look at them, but he does pay close attention to the conversation. Felicity’s never told him that there is somebody at work trying to take her job. She should really give him their name. He can pay them a late night visit… Just to chat. 

“No. He’s the one that asks me out everyday,” she says through a yawn. 

She’s still so tired. She should be resting more, not packing up to go home. The doctors at this place are quacks. 

Oliver doesn’t see it, but he hears the vase get dropped into the metal trash can and Oliver can’t help but smile his approval. Felicity doesn’t need to keep flowers from her admirers. 

Felicity gasps out in pain suddenly and Oliver is at her side in an instant. 

“What is it?” he asks. He cradles her face with his hands as he looks her over with a critical eye.

“I’m calling the nurse. You aren’t going home,” Oliver says, reaching for the call button, but Tommy blocks it with his hand. 

“Relax, Chicken Little,” Tommy says. “She just reached out with her bad arm. It’ll take awhile for her to get used to not moving it.” 

“Her morphine’s probably running low,” Donna says. “Do you need more sweetheart?” 

“I can talk for myself,” she grumbles. Oliver watches as her hand fumbles around on the bed. He picks up the button to the pump that delivers her morphine and holds it out to her. She smiles at him and takes it, pressing the button. 

Oliver sighs, hating that she still needs the morphine. He doesn’t like Felicity when she’s high as a kite. She’s adorable, sure. But she’s also way too vulnerable for his liking. It feels like a disaster waiting to happen. And when he’s already on edge, unsure if whoever paid the assassin will come after them again, it’s too much. 

This is one of the reasons that she should stay in the hospital another night. 

The door opens and Oliver turns around as the doctor and nurse walk in. The nurse hands Donna a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out. 

“It looks like you’re good to go,” the doctor says and Oliver scoffs. 

“She literally just had to take more morphine because the pain was too much,” he challenges as Felicity glares at him and Tommy rolls his eyes. 

“I’m sending her home with two days worth of vicodin. After that, she can switch to ibuprofen,” the doctor explains. 

As if that’s going to be enough. She should be getting around the clock care to manage her pain properly. These people aren’t taking her condition seriously enough. 

“Vicodin...” she says carefully, looking at Tommy out of the corner of her eye. Oliver doesn’t understand why, but whatever it is has Tommy looking annoyed. 

“You’ll still be pretty sore for a while,” the doctor explains. “We want to keep the dose to a minimum to prevent addiction. But if the pain gets to be too bad and the ibuprofen doesn’t work, you can call your general practitioner to see what your options are.” 

“Okay, anything else?” she asks. 

“While you’re on the vicodin, you won’t be able to drive and shouldn’t go into work. And I’d say, given how you’ve reacted to the morphine, it’s probably not a bad idea to have somebody stay with you,” the doctor explains. 

“I’m going home with Oliver,” she says. 

Oliver’s eyes seek hers out. 

“What?” he asks. They haven’t talked about this. He’d assumed she would be going back to her place. Suddenly, he’s panicking. 

His house. 

Where she’d been shot. 

With him. 

The two of them. 

Alone together. 

In the house where she’d been shot. 

He isn’t sure why he’s spiraling. He’d planned on keeping an eye on her. When the doctor stupidly decided she was ready for release, he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Not until he was sure she wasn’t in any danger because of him. 

But now, thinking about her actually coming home with him has him looking for the nearest escape. 

He shouldn’t be here. He’s the plague and she’s going to get hurt again. She’s going to get killed. Why did he come back? Why couldn’t he just find the strength to stay away? 

Tommy and Donna give him a weird look, but Felicity doesn’t. She stares into his eyes knowingly, before sighing deeply. 

“Is that all?” she asks. 

The doctor gives her some final instructions before wishing her well and leaving. The nurse tells them to buzz her when the paperwork is finished and she’ll get them discharged. 

“Can Oliver and I have a minute?” she asks. 

Donna eyes Oliver carefully as Tommy says, “Sure.” On his way out the door, Tommy places a hand on his shoulder and whispers, “Remember, you don’t have to light the match.” 

Oliver wants to tell him that he’s not trying to. He wants to explain that the world is going to burn one way or another. That somebody always turns his world to ash. The only chance Felicity may have is to leave before the flame can get her. 

Oliver should run. He should get as far away from his loved ones as he can.  

Tommy and Donna walk out the door. Oliver turns to look at Felicity. She reaches out and takes hold of his hand. 

“Are you sure you’re ready to go home?” he asks as she settles back into her pillow with heavy eyes. He isn’t convinced the hospital gave her enough blood last night. Her color still isn’t 100%. 

Felicity shakes her head and he’s about to buzz the nurse in here to say that Felicity wants to stay when she speaks up. 

“Don’t do this.” 

“Do what?” he asks, even though he’s sure that he knows exactly what she’s talking about. She’s always been able to see right through him. 

“Push…” she says. 

He closes his eyes and tries to find the strength to argue with her. It’s just so hard when her hand in his own feels so good. He’s always wanted he shouldn’t have. 

“Nobody blames you but you,” she whispers. 

“That’s because they don’t know,” he says, reaching out to brush the hair from her face. He leaves his hand against her cheek as she leans into his touch. He shouldn’t indulge himself, but he can’t help it. “I had the power to stop this. I didn’t.” 

She shakes her head. Her eyes glaze over and he can see the morphine truly kicking in. 

“Bad things happen…  _ Bad _ , bad things,” she says, sticking her lip out as she struggles to keep her head up, but he continues to support the weight of it with his palm. “Mmmm. There’s always going to be a reason. Can’t put this weight on your shoulders.” 

She reaches out with her uninjured hand and puts it on his shoulders as she smiles tiredly at him. 

“No matter how sexy they are… So sexy. Like Tarzan…  _ Wow _ .” 

Oliver chuckles as she pats his shoulder with wide eyes. “Even the super strong Oliver Queen can’t hold all that guilt forever…” 

“I don’t know, I’m pretty strong,” he says, trying to make light of the situation. She just glares at him. Even with all that morphine slowing down her genius brain and clouding her thoughts, she knows him too well. 

“I’m no good for you,” he says, honestly. 

She shakes her head way more intensely than is necessary until he reaches out to stop her. 

“Spinning,” she grumbles and has to close her eyes for a moment. “Lies. You know?” 

“I know what?” he asks, amused, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. He’s learned that, on morphine, she has a tendency to having half of her conversations in her head and not realizing she hasn’t said it all aloud.  

“You told yourself that,” she says with that pout that makes it difficult not to give into whatever she wants. “We weren’t together… We could have been, but we weren’t. Because… Because you had your lies.” 

“I didn’t lie to you,” Oliver says, confused. In fact, Felicity was one of the only people he didn’t lie to back then. 

“You lied to you,” she says. “When you said you weren’t good enough. You did it then and made us both miserable... With the being apart... And the not getting to kiss each other whenever we want… And you’re doing it now, Oliver Queen.” 

She saying his full name like she only does when he’s in trouble, but she’s not yelling at him. 

“I want to kiss you, whenever I want. And I want you to kiss me. And…” she closes her eyes and he thinks for a minute she might fall asleep on him, but she eventually opens her eyes again. “No. It’s not about the kissing. It’s about the lying. Stop.” 

Oliver sighs. This really isn’t the best time for them to be having any kind of serious discussion. She needs to rest. 

“Don’t sigh at me,” she says, sighing herself in imitation of him. 

“Why don’t get you get some rest,” he suggests. “We can talk later.” 

She shakes her head before she slams her eyes shut and groans. Clearly all the movement made the room spin a little too much. 

“Not later,” she grumbles. “Now. Because you have that ‘I’m serious and broody and can only be properly serious and broody when I’m by myself and not with Felicity’ face on.” 

“It’s a face? Doesn’t that imply that I’ve done this before?” he says with a laugh. 

“Your whole life,” she says. 

Oliver bites the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything as her eyes well up with tears. He wants to promise her that he won’t run this time. That he will stay and see this through. It’s what he truly wants. But one of them has to be an adult and make the tough decision. She’s too high to do so herself, so it’s going to have to be him. 

“Oliver,” she says his name like he’s the answer to all of her prayers and it literally breaks his heart. She isn’t calling for him. Not the man he’s become. She’s calling out for the boy that got on the Gambit. 

Still, every cell in his body wants to answer that call. He wants to curl up next to her and let her melt away all of the ice around his heart. Let her heal all of his sins. Oliver wants her depretely, but he’s not supposed to. 

“It’s selfish to stay with you,” he admits. “You’re only going to get hurt.” 

“No,” she says, stubborn as ever. “I’m asking you to stay. I’m begging you to stay. I’m telling you what I need, and it’s you... Hmm…” 

She smiles lazily as she closes her eyes again. “It’s you. It’s always been you.” 

“You’re high,” he whispers in case she’s trying to fall asleep. But when she snorts, he knows she’s just resting her eyes. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You can’t know what you’re agreeing to.” 

She shakes her head. “That’s not fair,” she says, sitting up. She reaches out for her IV and is about to tug it out when Oliver grabs her wrist to stop her. 

“What are you doing?” he says, looking at her like she’s crazy. He knows her judgement is impaired from the morphine, but she’s not usually self-destructive. 

“No more drugs,” she says. “Take it out.” 

She pulls on her wrist, trying to break free of his hold, but he won’t let her. 

“You need the drugs,” he reminds her carefully.  

“I don’t care if it hurts. It’s one gunshot and it didn’t hit anything important apart from my stupid shoulder. You survived worse than a gunshot on Lian Yu without drugs. And lord knows I’m tougher than Oliver Queen. Take. It. Out,” she demands, glaring at him. 

“Felicity, come on,” he says, trying to get her to see reason. “No.” 

“You won’t believe me because I’m high. Well fine. I won’t be high anymore. I don’t need the drugs. Take it out,” she argues.  

Her eyes look clear all of a sudden as she stares him down. She continues to try and tug on her wrists and he’s certain if he let her, she’d tear her IV out just to prove a point. She’s always been stubborn. But he also knows, she’s only ever this bullheaded when she truly believes in something. 

“Okay, okay,” he whispers, pulling her wrist away from her IV. “I’m listening.” 

“It’s not the drugs,” she says adamantly. 

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Oliver tells her. “If I let go, do you promise not to take your IV out?” 

“Do you promise not to be an asshole and tell me how I feel? Or what I deserve? Or that I don’t know what I’m talking about? Because I  _ know _ what I’m talking about, Oliver Queen. More than you do.” 

There she goes with his full name again. Between that and the way she’s saying each word slower than normal, like she’s trying to take extra care not to slur her speech, he knows the drugs are strong. He shouldn’t trust what she’s saying, even if he wants to. Even if it’s so easy to let her take away all of his guilt over staying. 

“I’m listening,” he says, though he should be saying goodbye instead. 

“You are selfish,” she tells him with a fierce determination that is uniquely Felicity. She holds up one finger. “You already tried to leave this morning.  _ Selfish _ .”

She holds up another finger. “You’re trying to keep me in the hospital so that you won’t have to make a decision.  _ Selfish _ .” 

She hold up a third finger. “And you’re going to leave me again.  _ Triple selfish _ .” 

She shakes her hand in front of his face as she says, “That’s three times selfish.” 

“Thank you, I know what triple means,” he says with a roll of her eyes, grabbing onto her wrist and moving her hand out of his face. 

“Well you failed algebra and you’re trying to leave me, so excuse me if I don’t think you’re that smart right now,” she tells him.

The two of them stare at each other in silence. He’s tired of arguing with her about this. He doesn’t want to leave, but he’s scared of what the outcome of deciding to stay will be. Felicity, he worries, isn’t concerned enough about her own self-preservation. No sane girl would ask him to stay after what she’s been through. 

“Tommy told you that I left,” he says, biting back his anger as he finishes processing everything she’d said. So much for Tommy telling him he had a free ticket out of the doghouse. 

“He didn’t have to tell me,” Felicity says. 

Oliver gives her a questioning look, and so she explains. 

“I know you and I know him. He’s been mad at you all day and trying to pretend he isn’t. And you’ve been watching that door like you’re about to bolt. And when I woke up, my mom was even more high energy than normal. Like she was working extra hard to make it seem like everything was okay. It wasn’t okay. When you aren’t here, I’m never okay. Oliver…” 

She sniffles and he realizes that she’s about to cry again. 

“You left me,” she says as a tear falls down her cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, reaching out to wipe the tear away. “I’m the reason you got shot. It’s not safe.” 

She shakes her head. “On the Gambit…”

He drops his hands to his side and looks at her confused. Weren’t they just talking about this morning? 

“You left me. For five years and I wanted to die,” she says and the words are like a knife to his heart. “I wanted to be on that boat with you. I didn’t know how to breathe. And that’s not me. I don’t… I never wanted to be that girl. But I was. I was when Cooper died and I was when you… When you…” 

“When I died,” he finishes for her. 

Oliver rubs at his fingers as his hand itches for a bow. Tommy had mentioned this morning how hard things were for Felicity when he left, but he hadn’t paid it much mind. Hearing her talking about it now… Hearing her tell him this and knowing the only reason she’s admitting it is because of the drugs that have taken away her filter… It makes him angry. He’s the one that put her through that pain. Maybe if he’d never left her that voicemail… 

“I should know how to live without you… But I don’t. I never really learned,” she says, tugging on his hand and he doesn’t have the strength to fight it. He rearranges himself so that he’s sitting against the head of the bed and she’s able to cuddle into his side. He kisses the top of her head, noting how she doesn’t smell like the lavender shampoo he’s grown used to. Instead, she smells like whatever cheap stuff the hospital gave her. 

“It never stopped hurting,” she says, clutching onto his arm like she thinks he’s going to bolt any second. She thinks he’s stronger than he is. Doesn’t she know that he’s too weak to leave? That he’s too tired to try and fight it anymore? He spent the last five years always fighting something, he doesn’t want to fight her. 

“Oliver… If you leave now when I just got you back… It will be the most selfish thing you’ve ever done.  _ Leaving _ is the selfish thing.” 

He disagrees with Felicity. Staying with her is going to be the most selfish thing he’s ever done. However, he won’t leave her if she’s asking him to stay. 

She turns her head and nuzzles into his neck, whispering that she loves him. He pulls her closer to him, careful not to jostle her too much. She has a sling to keep her arm from moving and hurting her shoulder, but he still wants to be careful. He’s caused her enough pain.

“Are you leaving me?” she asks quietly. He can hear how scared she is and it breaks his heart. She shouldn’t be so attached to him. He’s going to be her downfall in the end. 

“The moment you tell me to,” he promises himself. He might not be able to walk away from her now, but he’ll do it eventually. The second she realizes who he truly is and asks him to, he’ll do it. 

It’s the only way he can justify staying to himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all the love and support you guys have been giving this fic!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your support of this story! I planned to have this up last week, but turns out- you don't get much writing done when you're at Disney World. Go figure!

“There she is,” Digg says brightly when they step out of the hospital. He opens his arms for a hug and Felicity falls right into them. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I got shot,” she mumbles into his chest, causing Digg to laugh. 

“Well you did,” he says as she steps out of his arms. 

“Does this make me officially initiated?” she asks. 

Oliver shakes his head. “We don’t initiate people by shooting them,” he grumbles. He doesn’t care that she’s joking. Nothing about this is funny. 

Felicity points to Diggle’s shoulder then her own before looking at him amused. He rolls his eyes and repeats himself. “We don’t initiate people by shooting them.” 

“He’s grumpy cause I got shot,” Felicity explains, which only causes him to grumble more. 

“I think we should give him a pass on that one,” Digg says. “We were all very worried about you.” 

Felicity nods and leans back against Oliver, who wraps his arms around her. He doesn’t trust her on her feet entirely. Not after she’d nearly cracked her skull open trying to get dressed a few minutes ago. The only reason she hadn’t was because Oliver had caught her. 

“Where is everyone else?” Digg asks him. “I figured they’d be here?” 

“Tommy had to take Donna to the airport. She couldn’t get any more time off,” he says. 

“Stupid casino,” Felicity mumbles. 

“They left about ten minutes ago,” Oliver finishes explaining. 

“Gotcha,” Digg says as he opens the door and Oliver moves to help her inside the car. 

“Where to?” Digg asks. 

“Home,” Oliver says at the same time Felicity says, “Big Belly.” 

Oliver gives her a pointed look. He’s barely on board with her being released from the hospital. If she thinks he’s going to let her do anything but go straight home, she’s crazy. Felicity sighs dramatically. 

“Home,” she says with a pout. 

He shuts the door and Digg and he walk around to the other side of the car to get in. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll sneak you a milkshake,” Digg promises as he starts the car. 

Felicity smiles at him before she leans her head against the window. Oliver assumes it won’t take long for her to fall asleep in the car. As much as she’s trying to be strong, she’s exhausted. It only takes about a minute into the half hour drive back home before she starts snoring lightly. He’s relieved. She needs the rest. 

Oliver chats with Digg about the assassination attempt last night. Digg’s spent most of the day researching leads, trying to figure out who ordered the hit. He’s got a few potentials that need to be checked out. Oliver doesn’t think The Hood will be able to hit the streets tonight. Not while he’s still taking care of Felicity, but he wants to take care of this as soon as possible. Digg is going to head to the bunker and do some basic recon on their potential targets and come over later with what he finds.

Oliver gets out of the car and walks over to the other side, very carefully opening the door so that Felicity won’t faceplant. The movement shakes her awake. 

“Wazgoinon?” she mumbles. 

“We’re home,” he says gently. 

She sits up and he helps her out of the car. 

“Milkshakes?” Felicity asks Digg, who just laughs. 

“I’ll be by later tonight and bring you one,” he promises and she smiles. 

“You’re my favorite,” she says, nearly tripping on her feet before Oliver catches her. 

“Alright,” Oliver says. “Let’s get you inside and back to bed.” 

“Your bed?” she says, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“You can sleep in one of the guest rooms if you want?” he asks, realizing she might not want to go back into his bedroom. After all, it is the scene of the crime. Oliver’s not sure  _ he’s _ ready to go back to the scene of the crime. It’s hard enough keeping the memory of her getting shot from playing on repeat without being in his bedroom where it happened. 

“With the ghosts? No thanks,” she says, leaning against him heavily as he walks her up the steps towards the door. 

Oliver laughs, pushing the negative thoughts to the back of his mind. Felicity needs him to be strong. He can do that. He can joke around with her and pretend that everything is still okay. So long as they aren’t joking about what happened last night. 

“I thought you didn’t believe my house was haunted anymore,” he teases her. When they were little, she used to sneak into his room whenever she stayed over. She thought there were ghosts in her room. As they got older, she stopped being scared, but never stopped sneaking into his room at night. 

“It’s not the ghosts,” she says with an exasperated tone, shooting him a look like she thinks he’s an idiot. He can help but chuckle at her overanimated face. 

“Then what is it?” he asks as they step through the door. 

“Your mom,” she says in what is probably supposed to be a whisper, but her voice is incredibly loud. 

He helps Felicity out of her jacket. She steps away from him as he hands the jacket to the maid and he winces as he hears her stumble into the table in the center. Several of the picture frames fall off. Oliver grabs onto her arm before she can attempt to pick any of them up and cause a bigger mess. 

“Sorry,” she says. “Was that table a gift from a king or something? I bet it was.” 

“What?” he asks with a laugh. “No. We don’t have any gifts from kings?” 

He holds onto her waist to keep her steady as the maid begins to pick up the mess Felicity’s made.

“Psh. I just figured… You live in a castle. Queen’s castle,” she starts giggling and he can only roll his eyes. He’s not laughing at that. It’s hardly an original joke. Although, the way her entire face lights up as she laughs is intoxicating. She’s so gorgeous. 

Oliver looks up at the sound of footsteps in the hall and sees his mom watching the two of them. She hasn’t said much since she found out about Felicity and him. She’d called him for a few minutes this afternoon to check in, but they hadn’t talked long. Yesterday, he could tell that she wanted to say something about it, but he’d cut her off. He hadn’t wanted to hear it. 

His mom is old school. His grandparents still believe that marriages are more about strategy than love. She grew up believing that class meant everything and she’s fiercely protective of her kids. So Oliver gets it. She’s never been overly fond of the idea of him being friends with Felicity because she’s from the Glades. He’s sure that the idea of the two of them dating is even more horrifying for his mother. 

Oliver knows that sooner or later, his mom is going to try and talk him into breaking up with Felicity. And she’d be right. Not for the reasons his mom will say, but she’ll still be right. Oliver shouldn’t be with her. Not because of her class, her upbringing, or anything having to do with her. But because of him. 

His mom is going to eventually want to talk about this, but he’s not in the mood right now. And the longer they stay down here, the more likely it is that she’ll try and have that conversation with him today. 

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he tells Felicity. 

“Shhhh,” she whispers loudly. “Your mom will hear and come. She’s like Voldemort.” 

Oliver looks at her like she’s crazy as he laughs uncomfortably, watching his mom out of the corner of his eye to see how she’ll react. She doesn’t, but she also doesn’t step into the room to greet them either. “What?” 

“You know? When they say Voldemort’s name and it gives up their location? You’re going to give up our location and I don’t want your mom to see me going up to your bedroom,” she says tugging down on his arm.

“It’s ok,” he says. “She knows you came home with me.”

Oliver is well past the age where his mom has any say over who he brings home with him. But even if she did have a say, Oliver had told her that he was bringing Felicity home because the doctor said she needed supervision and his mom hadn’t said a word. 

Felicity steps closer to him, but she ends up tripping on his foot and stumbling into him. She attempts to whisper, “She thinks I killed you.”

Felicity mentioned it once before, but he’d assumed she was exaggerating or that her own guilt had colored her interactions with his mom. He’d assured her it wasn’t true and thought the matter was settled. Clearly not. 

“You didn’t kill me,” he says with a sigh. 

“I did and she knows it,” Felicity says, rolling her eyes. “And she’s right. She wants you to be with Laurel. Lovely Laurel.” 

Felicity makes a disgusted face. “You guys were awful together.” 

Oliver really doesn’t want to talk about Laurel right now. As curious as he is to hear Felicity’s true feelings on the matter when her filter is gone, it feels wrong when she’s in this state. Especially with his mom listening in. Doctor prescribed or not, a high Felicity will only fan the flames. His mom already thinks that anyone from the Glades is an addict or a criminal. 

“Let’s get you upstairs,” he says, wrapping his arm around her waist. Felicity plants her feet and refuses to move though. She turns in his arms, poking him in the chest as she glares at him. 

“You always said your mom didn’t like me because I lived in the Glades,” she says. “But do you want to know what Tommy says?” 

Oliver looks between his mom and Felicity. Felicity clearly has no idea his mom is here. If she did, she wouldn’t be talking. But at this point, it would be even more embarrassing for her if he pointed it out. Felicity looks up at him expecting an answer. 

“Uh... you’re going to tell me anyways,” he says, uncomfortable. 

She steps back from him and trips again. He tightens his grip on her before she can fall into the table for a second time. He picks her up completely. She can’t be trusted to walk. 

“Tommy thinks she’s jealous,” Felicity says, resting her head against her shoulder. “Your dad was never around and until Thea, you were all she had. And you only ever wanted to hang out with me. Your mom thinks I stole you from her.” 

Oliver knows he should probably be upset with Tommy over what he’d said to Felicity. He should defend his mother. Except, he can’t. Oliver’s never really thought about it that way before, but he thinks Tommy might be right. His mom has always been judgemental about Felicity. He’d always assumed it had to do with her feelings towards Donna and where Felicity was from. His mom always protested loudly about how unsafe it was for him to go over to Felicity’s. He thought she was being overprotective. 

His dad and mom never had a particularly strong relationship, but his mom always tried to maintain a strong relationship with Thea and him. Could it be that his mom has been jealous of Felicity this entire time? It’s not out of the realm of possibility. 

Oliver looks over at his mom curiously but she’s already walking away. 

Felicity’s breath tickles his neck enough to call his attention back to the woman in his arms. Felicity is the one that needs his attention right now, he can worry about his mom later. 

“You need some sleep,” Oliver tells Felicity as he carries her up the stairs. 

“She called me a gold digger,” she says through a yawn. 

It’s not the first time he’s heard the term in regards to a Smoak woman, but typically whenever he hears it, it’s in relation to Donna. His mom and her friends were always jealous of the way that their husbands looked at Donna. They believed Donna liked the attention. That she sought it out. Oliver knows that was never true, but he’s learned there’s rarely much you can do to reason with insecurities. The elite of Starling had that in spades. Why else were they always trying to one up one another? 

It’s a very rare occurrence that Oliver’s ever heard anyone claim Felicity was a gold digger, and when he has, it hasn’t ended well for the person making the claim. However, it’s not something he’s ever heard his mother say about her. Oliver doesn’t say anything in response, but his blood starts to boil. 

Felicity is the furthest thing from a gold digger. 

“She thought I was trying to seduce you,” Felicity continues to explain as her eyes glaze over. He’s surprised that she’s still awake, to be honest. 

“Shhh,” he says, wanting to end the conversation now before he loses his temper. She needs rest and healing, not rage.

Oliver opens the door to his bedroom. He’s surprised to see and hear so much commotion inside. Several people are in the room attempting to clean up the mess from the shooting the night before. His eyes immediately go to the blood stain in the carpet in front of the fireplace. The assassin is no longer alive, but he’d been here. He’d come into Oliver’s home and attacked him where he sleeps. He’d shot Felicity. 

Up until a minute ago, he thought he was doing a decent job keeping everything at bay. But the sight of his room just brings it all rushing back. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Oliver,” Raisa comes up to talk to him. She looks worried. “The police only released the room an hour ago. We are working to put everything back in place.”

“Don’t they have people that do this?” Oliver asks. 

He hadn’t thought much about the state his room would be in when he returned. He’d just blindly expected it to look like normal. Of course the bedroom had been a crime scene. Of course the staff would have to clean up the mess. Why hadn’t he thought about this? 

“You think I was going to let some stranger come into this house to clean it? No,” Raisa says, shaking her head. He can see that she’s trying to be strong for him, but that the shooting has her shaken. “I am in charge of everything that happens in this home and I will oversee the cleanup. I’d hoped to be done before either of you returned. You shouldn’t have to see your room like this.” 

“It’s okay, Raisa,” he tells her, with little emotion as he pushes his feelings down. Raisa is a sympathetic crier. If she sees him getting emotional, she’ll start to cry and he doesn’t want that. 

“We should be finished in an hour or so,” Raisa explains. “Why don’t I get you set up in one of the guest rooms?” 

Felicity whines her protest and Oliver is too tired to argue with her. The worst of the mess is gone and really, all they need is a bed. They’d probably both be more comfortable in a familiar one. The quickest way to get things back to normal is to force them back. 

“They can finish cleaning up in the morning,” he tells her. 

“Of course,” Raisa says, even though she clearly doesn’t agree. She orders the rest of the staff to leave the room in Russian. “Shall I make the bed for you?” 

“Please,” he says as Felicity mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “Bed.” 

Raisa sets to work on putting the bed back together, including pulling the mattress back up onto the frame. Oliver would help, but Felicity protests the moment he tries to set her down. 

“How is Ms. Felicity doing?” Raisa asks, and he can hear the worry in her voice. Oliver can’t blame her. What happened last night was terrifying, and Raisa has always had a soft spot for Felicity. 

“I got shot,” Felicity whines as she nuzzles into his neck. 

“She knows,” Oliver says to her, kissing her head, before he turns back to Raisa. “I’d have liked her to spend another night or two in the hospital to be safe, but she’s doing okay.” 

“You’ve always been her knight,” Raisa says, amused. “You’re a good boy.” 

Oliver looks around at state of his room. The staff has cleaned up the worst of it. However, the empty space where his nightstand and coffee table used to be... The blood stain on the carpet… The unfamiliar comforter that Raisa is currently pulling up over the bed… It’s all evidence of the damage he inflicts on anything he touches. Oliver is not the good kid Raisa thinks he is. Not anymore. He never really was. 

Raisa finishes making the bed and Oliver sets Felicity down on top of the comforter. 

“Shall I make you both something to eat?” she asks, placing a comforting hand on his arm. 

“Nope,” Felicity says, rolling over to her side of the bed. “John is bringing me a milkshake.” 

Raisa shoots Oliver an amused look, before squeezing his arm. “I’ll bring some real food up in a bit.” 

“Thank you,” he says, accepting Raisa’s kiss to the cheek. She leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. 

“Raisa likes me,” Felicity says, pulling a pillow to her chest and holding it close. “She doesn’t think I’m the reason you got on the Gambit.” 

Oliver sighs. It’s glaringly clear that this thing with his mom and Felicity goes a lot deeper than some classism and the general dislike that happened when he was growing up. He gets the feeling that something major happened between them while he was gone and he’s been too oblivious and in his own head to realize it. With the way Felicity’s obsessing over it, he doesn’t think she’s exaggerating. And she hasn’t been lying or shying away from the truth while on morphine.

“Felicity—” 

“I know, I know,” she grumbles. “It wasn’t my fault. You make your own choices. Grr.” 

She clearly trying to imitate him with her low voice, but there’s absolutely zero way that he sounds anything like that. 

“She told me I was going to kill Tommy, too,” Felicity says. 

Oliver’s blood runs cold at her words as he pieces them together with everything else that’s been revealed today. Between Tommy talking about how miserable Felicity was, Felicity talking about how she’d wanted to die, and now hearing about the things his mother had said to her… It paints a very concerning picture.

“When?” he asks, feeling like he’s going to punch something. 

“When he was in the hospital,” she says. 

“When was Tommy in the hospital?” he asks, confused as he tries to figure out what Tommy would have been in the hospital for. 

Felicity rolls back over and tilts her head at him, giving him a curious look. “There’s blood on your shirt.” 

Oliver looks down. He’s still wearing the same bloody shirt he’d been wearing last night when she’d been shot. Digg had brought him a change of clothes this morning, but he’d never felt comfortable stepping away long enough to change and he wasn’t going to change with Donna and Tommy in the room. Neither of them have seen his scars. 

“Strip, Queen,” Felicity says with a smirk, putting her good arm behind her head to prop it up as she looks at him. 

She tries to wink, but she’s never really been able to do so. Oliver smiles fondly at her. She’s changed a lot during his five years away, but he’s glad to see that some of his favorite things about her haven’t changed. He goes into his closet but he hears Felicity whining. 

“I want to see,” she calls after him. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, stepping back out of the closet holding a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 

“Hey,” she says, sticking her bottom lip out. “I had my sexy times interrupted last night. I should at least get to see the goods.” 

Oliver gives her a pointed look. “We aren’t having sex while you’re high on pain meds and still healing.” 

Even if he thought she could stay awake long enough to get off and that they could be gentle enough not to pull her stitches, sleeping with a girl who’s high doesn’t interest him. Especially when that girl is Felicity. He’d rather wait for her to be back to her normal self. 

“Don’t need to have sex,” she says. “I just want the show.” 

Oliver rolls his eyes, but indulges her. He unbuttons his shirt as Felicity attempts to whistle. He strips out of his shirt and tosses it towards the garbage can before grabbing a new one. 

“Oliver…” Felicity says with a sharp intake of breath. 

When he looks up at her to see what’s wrong, assuming she’s pulled at her stitches or something, her eyes are watery and she’s staring at him like she’s seen a ghost. Oliver looks down at himself and notices his blood stained skin. Felicity looks like she’s about to have a panic attack, so he rushes to her side and pulls her into his arms. 

“You’re okay,” he says, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “It’s over now. You’re okay.”

She pulls out of his arms and looks up into his eyes. “You were scared.” 

It’s a statement, not a question, but he can’t refute it. 

“Terrified.” 

“I didn’t think you got scared anymore,” she says as he raises a hand to wipe away the lone tear that’s falling down her cheek. 

“I’m always scared of losing you,” he admits

She kisses his palm before she rolls out of bed. He stands up and follows closely behind her, worried she’s going to fall. She holds her good arm out, using the wall for support as she makes her way into the bathroom. 

Both of them inhale sharply when they find the counter and tile stained with her blood. He has to force himself to keep breathing as the image of her bleeding out hits him. He feels her nails digging into his skin as he looks down and sees that she has a death grip on his arm. 

Oliver closes his eyes as the guilt becomes overwhelming. He should have protected her. He should have done more. 

“Let’s go,” he says. They don’t need to be here. Felicity shouldn’t have to see this. 

“I’m okay,” Felicity says and it’s only then that he realizes his hands are shaking. 

She takes his wrist and guides his hand until it’s resting against her neck. He can feel her pulse and it helps ground him. 

“I’m okay,” she says again. “You kept me alive. I’m still here.” 

Oliver nods as he rests his forehead against hers. He closes his eyes, savoring the feeling of her breath against his lips and her pulse beneath his fingertips. 

A few minutes later, once neither of them are shaking any longer, she leans back against the counter for support. He watches as she grabs a towel off of the rack and runs it under water. She then begins washing the dried blood off of his body. 

Her blood. 

“I’m supposed to be taking care of you,” he says, but doesn’t stop her. He reaches out and places his hands at her hips and allows her touch to reassure him. She’s alive. She’s fine. She’s standing right in front of him. 

Felicity carefully cleans him off with a determined look on her face. Clearly, she’s concentrating incredibly hard on the task at hand. He knows that the drugs running through her body are messing with her coordination. When she is finished, she tosses the bloody towel into the garbage can and places a kiss to his heart. 

“Better,” she says and he has to agree. With her, everything is. 

“I destroyed your bathroom,” she says, looking at the stain on the counter. 

“It’ll wash off,” he says, wrapping his arms around her waist. He loves the way she falls against his body and rests her head on his chest. She’s always so trusting of him, even if she shouldn’t be.

“Your mom will be mad,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Oliver shakes his head. 

“You’re alive, that’s all that matters,” he says kissing her forehead. 

He doesn’t really care what his mom thinks about the state of his room. Right now, he’s not concerned about his mom’s feelings in the slightest. Not after everything that he’s been hearing. 

Oliver knows that he shouldn’t take advantage of her vulnerable state. If Felicity wants him to know something, she’ll tell him when she’s sober. But he wants to know the entire truth about what’s happened with his mom and he knows Felicity will sugar coat over the more brutal details to spare his feelings. She’s always hid her real emotions from the world, particularly when they are dark and dirty. 

“Felicity,” he says. 

“Hmm?” 

“What else did my mom tell you while I was gone?” he asks. 

Felicity shrugs, then grimaces from the movement. Her hand reaches up to rub at her shoulder and he grabs her wrist to pull it away. 

“You’re going to pull at your stitches,” he tells her when she sends him a questioning look. 

“I have a new appreciation for your job,” she whispers, her face scrunched up in pain. 

He reaches out and gently rubs the back of her shoulder, careful not to jostle her too much. He glances at his watch and does some quick math. The morphine is probably wearing off. She’s going to need her first dose of Vicodin. 

“Take me to bed,” she says. 

Oliver can’t deny such a simple request. He wraps his arms around her waist and helps her back into his bed. He then goes back to the bathroom for a glass of water. 

“Here,” he says when he comes back out. He hands the glass to her as he pulls the Vicodin out of his pocket and reads the bottle carefully for the dosage. 

“Not too much,” she says, making a face. “Don’t want to overdose.” 

“Why do you think I’m reading the bottle?” he says with a raise of his eyebrow. 

He hands her the pills and puts the bottle back in the bathroom. When he returns, he quickly changes into his sweatpants before crawling into bed. He gently helps Felicity out of the sling before they both settle down. She cuddles up next to him and rests her head against his bare chest. Oliver runs his hands up and down her back gently as she sighs happily. 

“Felicity?” he says. 

“Hmm?” 

“My mom?” he asks again, reminding her of his original question. 

“Oh,” she says, resting her chin against his chest as she looks up at him. “I don’t know.” 

“She told you that you were the reason I got on the Gambit and that you were going to get Tommy killed?” he says, hoping to refresh her memory enough to get more of a confession out of her. He needs the whole picture if he’s going to confront him mom about her behavior. 

“Yeah.” 

“What else did she say?” Oliver asks, as Felicity blinks up at him with heavy eyes. He’s starting to lose her. 

“Felicity,” he says again when she just shrugs. 

“She thought I moved into your townhouse after you died,” Felicity says through a yawn. “And that I was stealing your stuff. She didn’t believe that I hadn’t been back there since the Gambit. Tommy told her I was staying with him, but that just made her think I was a whore.” 

“You’re not a whore,” Oliver says, the hand on her back stills. 

“I led you on,” Felicity says, nuzzling into his chest. “I broke your heart.” 

“We broke each other’s hearts,” he says with a grimace, thinking back on how much pain they caused each other back then by being so stupid and insecure. 

“She said it should have been me that died,” Felicity whispers. 

Oliver’s hand curls into a fist as he sees red. No matter what the circumstances may have been, there is zero excuse for his mother saying that he wished Felicity died instead of him. 

“Shhhhh,” she says, nearly asleep. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. They’ll be mad.” 

Mad isn’t the right word for what he’s feeling. He’s furious. He’s so upset, he can barely contain his rage as the monster tries to climb it’s way to the surface. 

“It never should have been you,” he says, but she doesn’t hear him. Her breathing has already evened out. She’s fast asleep. 

Oliver wants to storm downstairs and immediately confront his mother. He cannot believe she would ever say something so horrible. He doesn’t want to believe it’s true, but he’s not naive enough anymore to deny it. His parents aren’t the people he thought they were. And really, he shouldn’t be surprised. Oliver should be used to the feeling of disappointment by now. He’d just hoped — He’d sincerely hoped — That his mother would never join the long list of names of people who have let him down.  

If it weren’t for the fact that Felicity is currently using him as a pillow and desperately needs her rest, he would be out of bed and telling his mom off right now. Oliver focuses on Felicity’s breathing against his chest. He reminds himself that no matter what words his mom threw at Felicity, they were just words. She’s still here. She’s still alive. Oliver didn’t lose her. 

It doesn’t get rid of the anger he has, but it does quiet it for the time being. Oliver closes his eyes and attempts to get some much needed sleep. With him not sleeping at all last night, his body is in need of rest. It takes about a half hour and some meditation, but he does eventually fall asleep. 

_ Oliver’s hands are on Felicity’s hips and he mouths at the top of her breast as she moves against him. He wants her. Every nerve in his body is tuned into her. She moans and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s not in pleasure.  _

_ He sits back and looks at her in horror. She holds her hands up to him and they are covered in blood.  _

_ “Oliver,” she says right before she starts coughing and blood pools out of her mouth.  _

_ He looks around the room for the gunman, but nobody is there. Whoever it was, they were too fast for him… Too talented… He hadn’t even seen them.  _

_ “Felicity,” he says, his heart beating a million miles a minute as he searches for the gunshot. He can’t find it anywhere. If he can’t figure out where the blood is coming from, he won’t be able to save her.  _

_ “You did this,” she says, her hands going to her stomach where more and more blood is pouring out of her.  _

_ He pushes her hands aside and reaches out to her. He feels around, but there isn’t an open wound that he can find. He doesn’t understand. Where is all the blood coming from?  _

_ “Stay with me,” he says to her, but she shakes her head.  _

_ “You never should have told me,” she whispers right before her eyes roll into the back of her head and she falls backwards.  _

_ “Felicity!” he yells as his heart freezes in his chest. This can’t be happening. Not again.  _

_ Oliver shuffles on the bed so he’s over her and continues to search for a wound, but he can’t find any. And now, it seems like the blood is coming from everywhere — her arms, her legs, her stomach, her chest…  _

_ “No, no, no, no,” he says to himself over and over as the blood soaks through the sheets, turning them red. Her skin is pale white and her lips are turning blue.  _

_ “Please, don’t leave me,” he cries as he reaches out to check her pulse with shaking hands. “Please.”  _

_ Oliver’s fingers move over her neck repeatedly, desperate to find any evidence that she’s still alive, but there’s no pulse. He begins to sob.  _

_ “No! No!!” he screams.  _

_ “Oliver Queen,” a distorted voice says as a spotlight hits him. When he looks up, the entire SCPD surrounds him.  _

_ “You’re under arrest for the murder of Felicity Smoak.”  _

Oliver’s eyes snap open and he sits up in bed suddenly, gasping for air. His eyes instantly seek out Felicity’s, so sure that he’s going to find her missing. When he sees her sleeping soundly next to him, he nearly cries in relief. Carefully, he reaches out a hand to place it against her neck, seeking out a pulse. He needs to feel the blood pumping through her body to reassure himself that she hadn’t bled out in his arms. He leaves his hand there as a reassurance, as he forces his breathing to slow down. 

“Ol’ver?” she mumbles, stirring in her sleep. 

“Shh,” he whispers. “Go back to bed.” 

This isn’t his first nightmare. He has them often. They aren’t nearly as awful the nights he falls asleep next to her, but they still happen. Felicity has taken to calming him down after them, even when it means staying awake with him for several hours before he can settle down. Oliver knows it isn’t fair to lean on her like that, but he does. He takes complete advantage of her willingness to help because few things can calm him down as quickly as her arms around him. 

Except, he can’t ask that of her. Not right now. Not while she’s still healing. And if she finds out that he’d had a nightmare, she’ll ignore her need for rest and try to help him. 

Oliver rolls out of bed. He’s wide awake now and all tossing and turning in bed will do is wake her up. What his body really wants is a good fight. His fingers itch for his bow and his body aches to give a beating. Hell, he’d even settle for a screaming match. He’s still overdue for a talk with his mom. 

However, he can’t leave. He won’t leave. Not when his nightmare is still so vivid. He needs to keep Felicity in his line of sight until he can calm down enough to separate dream from reality. Oliver paces around the room as he tries to figure out what to do to slow his racing heart. 

“She’s not dead,” he whispers to himself repeatedly. 

Oliver steps into the bathroom to splash some cold water on his face, when he sees the blood again. He shakes his head. 

As long as his room is still stained with blood, he’s not going to be able to move past this. Oliver moves into the closet to grab a shirt to put on, then he gets to work. He looks under the cabinet for the cleaning supplies he knows are kept there, even if he’s never used them before. He searches through the various products before he finds some heavy duty tile cleaner that he hopes will work. He also pulls out some gloves and sponges. 

At first the blood doesn’t seem to come off. All the cleaning supplies seem to do is spread it around, making an even bigger mess. But then he really puts his muscles into it and he starts to see some results. Soon, he’s sweating and his arms are burning as he works to scrub every last drop that’s made its way in between the tiles. It’s the distraction Oliver needs. Few things are as therapeutic for him as a hard day’s work. That’s something the island did teach him. 

When Oliver finishes with the floor, he moves on to the vanity. The blood is thicker here. He tries not to think about how much of it she lost. Felicity is okay. The hospital gave her a transfusion when she was admitted and her body will continue to heal itself over time. It takes more muscle to get the blood off of the vanity. For a solid twenty minutes, he’s positive it isn’t going to come off at all, but eventually the bleach starts to do its work. He’s able to get all of the blood off of the vanity. 

The cabinet is another story. Oliver is staring at the wood, wondering what it would take to get the blood off when he hears the bedroom door open. He assumes that it’s Raisa coming by with their dinner. He can ask her what to do about the cabinets. She’ll be shocked to see him cleaning, that’s for sure. Shocked and likely horrified. She’s always been territorial over the house. She doesn’t like anyone doing anything that might imply she can’t handle her job. 

He steps into the bedroom, preparing himself for a lecture. He’s surprised to see Laurel. A sinking feeling of dread comes over him as he remembers their encounter the previous night. It had been a disaster. In his attempt to try and help ease her pain, he’d led her on and that wasn’t fair. Oliver wants to help bring her the closure that she needs, but he’s still uncomfortable with what happened between them last night. Even though he didn’t kiss her, sharing his scars with her felt too intimate. 

He’s about to apologize when Laurel speaks up. 

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Laurel says with a bitter laugh, staring at Felicity, who’s still asleep in bed. There’s a piece of paper rolled up in her hands that she smacks against her leg. “You were always falling into bed with her.” 

Oliver bites his tongue. He never cheated on Laurel with Felicity, no matter how many times she accused him of it. Felicity is better than that and he’s tired of people talking about her like she isn’t. He didn’t put up with Laurel calling Felicity a whore back then and he won’t do it now. Oliver might have fallen into bed with beautiful women each night, but Felicity was never that kind of girl. He would never have treated her like that kind of girl. She’s better than that. 

“I don’t know why I thought you’d changed,” Laurel says. 

“I have changed,” Oliver says defensively. “Felicity and I aren’t fooling around. We’re together.” 

Good idea or not — Selfish or not — They are together. Oliver doesn’t plan on leaving her. Not until she forces him to. 

Laurel scoffs and Oliver sends her a questioning look. Is it really  _ that  _ hard to believe he could be serious about Felicity? He knows his track record with women speaks for itself, but this is Felicity. They’ve been best friends for years, even when she lived a thousand miles away. He’s been a loyal friend, he’ll be a loyal boyfriend. 

He’s about to ask her what her problem is or why she keeps looking at him in disbelief. But before he can she says, “Your mom told me, Ollie.” 

She says it in such an accusatory tone. However, he can’t figure out what she’s talking about. Told her what? That Oliver was with Felicity? His mom only just found out last night. What, had she called Laurel immediately afterwards to inform her? It seems unlikely. And even if she had, why is she looking at him like he’s doing something wrong? Oliver isn’t with Laurel. He’s free to date whoever he chooses. 

“She said that you still have feelings for me,” Laurel says, her eyes starting to water. “So what is this?” 

Laurel points to the bed with the piece of paper she’s holding, where, thankfully, Felicity is still asleep. 

“She did what?” he asks. Oliver swears he hears her wrong. There is no way that his mother would tell Laurel that. Hasn’t the Lance family been through enough without continuing to play with their emotions? The rage he’d had for his mother earlier returns with a vengeance. 

“When your mom came to ask me to represent you and I told her it was a horrible idea, she said you were still in love with me,” Laurel says, wiping the tears from her face. “I don’t know why I let myself keep doing this with you, Ollie. You never change.” 

Oliver runs his hands over his face as he tries to process what she’s telling him. 

God, no wonder she tried to kiss him last night. His mom basically gave her the all clear. And why? When did Oliver ever give the impression he wanted to get Laurel back? Is his mother so against the idea of him being with Felicity that she’d tried to force Laurel and him back together? 

Oliver’s hands curl into fists as the need to punch something grows. It’s bad enough that his mom has been saying such awful things to Felicity in his absence. No matter how much she was grieving, his mother had no right to say anything to Felicity. The fact that she wished Felicity dead instead of him? That alone is enough to send Oliver over the edge. But for her to bring Laurel into it? 

Oliver has enough sins of his own to make up for in regards to the Lance family. He doesn’t need her adding anything else to the list. 

Oliver sighs deeply. 

“Laurel—” 

“Don’t,” she says. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“You’re not,” he says, shaking his head. 

“All those times… I knew, I  _ knew _ you were in love with her,” Laurel says. “You told me it wasn’t anything to worry about. I never believed you but…” 

She trails off as her eyes go back to the bed where Felicity sleeps. He can see her biting her lip and shaking her head. She’s upset, but she’s trying not to show it. It breaks his heart. Oliver may not be in love with Laurel, but he still cares for her deeply. He wants to make up for the pain he caused her when he got on the Gambit, not cause her more. 

“My mom had no right to say that to you,” Oliver says, reaching out for her, but she steps out of his reach and glares at him. 

“No, don’t put this on her,” Laurel says. “You came to my office when you first got back… Our conversation at your welcome back party… Last night—” 

“Woah, that wasn’t—” 

“You have been asking for this,” Laurel says. “What were you even doing if not trying to get into my pants again?” 

“I was trying to apologize,” Oliver says, feeling helpless.

“There’s no apologizing for what you did!” Laurel yells, causing Felicity to stir. Oliver grabs onto her wrist and pulls her out into the hall so that they don’t wake her up. 

“I know that, okay,” he says with a sigh. “I can’t turn back time. I can’t stop Sara from getting on that boat. I can’t tell you the truth, which was that I wasn’t ready to move in with you. I can’t un-sleep with the women that I slept with when we were together. I know that there is no atonement for what I put you through or what I did to your family.” 

Oliver feels his eyes well up with tears as he thinks about Sara. “There is not a day that goes by that I don’t think of Sara and what happened to her. I miss her, so I can only imagine how much you miss her.” 

Laurel puts the piece of paper into her back pocket and crosses her arms. She leans back against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He watches her take several steading breaths before she looks at him. 

“I thought maybe—” she cuts herself off and laughs, bitterly. “It’s silly.” 

“I’m sure it’s not,” he says. 

“I thought maybe if the two of us could fix our problems… If we could find a way back to each other… Maybe it would all be worth it. But nothing is going to make what happened to Sara okay. She died… And I’m so  _ angry _ at her for leaving with you, but I’m not allowed to be. Because who gets mad at their dead sister? She shouldn’t have been on that boat and you shouldn’t have invited her. God, she was my sister, Ollie!” 

“I know. That’s why I did it,” he admits, feeling like an asshole. 

Sara is dead because he couldn’t find the courage to just call Laurel up and dump her himself. Sara is dead because he’s never held a match he didn’t light. Oliver has burnt his world to the ground too many times to count. At some point, the damage he inflicted had stopped seeming real. But the Gambit? It was real. The consequences of his actions caught up to him, and unfortunately, too many other people suffered because of it. 

He’d like to promise he’ll never do it again, but the fact remains, everything the touches turns to ash. 

“I shouldn’t have pushed,” Laurel says. “I could feel you slipping away back then. When I found out that Felicity was living with you because Cooper died, I could feel it coming. So I tried to hold on as hard as I could, and I don’t even know why.” 

“It wasn’t all bad, you and I,” Oliver says.  

Laurel snorts. “When was it ever good?” 

“Cabo?” 

Laurel smiles despite herself. “That may be one of the things I hate most about you,” she says. “You would be a complete asshole 90% of the time, but the other 10% of the time you would be so charming and so over the top that I couldn’t help but fall back in love with you… This would be easier if I didn’t have any memories of things being good.” 

“We should have broken up a long time ago,” he says. 

Laurel doesn’t say anything, but he can see her trying to gather her courage to ask him something, so he waits. 

“What does she have that I don’t?” she asks. 

Oliver glances at the door then back at Laurel. There are so many things he could say, but none of them would make her feel better. For Oliver, it has always been Felicity. From the moment they first met, his heart has belonged to her. It’s not that there's anything wrong with Laurel, she just isn’t the woman he loves. 

“You’re going to find somebody that treats you a million times better than I ever did,” he tells her. 

“Well I don’t have anymore sisters to sleep with and kill, so that won’t be hard,” Laurel says. 

Oliver grimaces. The words are harsh, but he deserves them. 

“Sorry,” she says. “I think I still need some time on that whole forgiveness thing.” 

“You don’t have to forgive me,” he tells her. “I don’t deserve it. But you should let it go, for your own wellbeing. Holding onto that kind of anger will eat away at you.” 

He should know. His anger grew so dark he had to give it a name and a hood just to keep it from taking over his entire life. 

“Is that what you’re doing? With the men that tortured you? Are you letting it go?” Laurel asks. 

Oliver looks past her, staring at the wall behind her. He doesn’t want to talk about any of that. Not with her. Not with anyone.

“Was there a reason you came?” he asks, changing the subject.

Laurel looks like she wants to say more on the matter, but decides to drop it. 

“My father told me what happened with the gunman,” she says, taking a step towards him. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t surprised that she isn’t asking about Felicity, even though she’s the one that actually got shot. They might have taken a baby step towards some kind of closure today, but it’s going to take a lot more than a conversation to heal Laurel’s wounds. 

“Yeah,” he says. “We’re both fine.” 

They aren’t. Felicity almost died last night and he can barely sleep without seeing it. However, he’s not going to turn to Laurel for comfort with this. She has enough on her plate and he doesn’t want to confuse her any more than his mother already has. 

Laurel stands up properly and pulls the piece of paper out of her back pocket. 

“These are your polygraph results,” she says with a pointed look. 

Oliver is positive that he passed the test. He racks his mind trying to figure out what she could have found that has her looking at him like she’s waiting for a confession. 

“My father asked you if you’d ever been to Iron Heights. It’s the prison where the vigilante saved me last week,” she explains and he can see where this is going. It’s the only question he was asked that he’d been unable to avoid with half-truths. He’d had to flat out lie and though he knew that he lied well enough to pass the test, he’s not surprised that she’d seen something in his response. 

“It’s also where you and I went on our eighth grade field trip,” she says, looking at him carefully. She’s searching for some kind of reaction, and he won’t give it to her. Laurel is not going to find out his secret. Felicity knowing about The Hood is dangerous enough. He’s not going to add any more names to the list of people who know he’s the vigilante. 

“When you said that you had never been there, I thought maybe you were just nervous or that you’d forgotten,” she continues to explain. “But then I looked at your results and there is a slight flutter in your answer to that question. And if you lied on one, you could have lied on others.”

“What happened to me being too selfish to be a masked crusader?” he asks. He needs to get her off of this trail and quick. Laurel is a smart girl — not as smart as Felicity, but she’s up there. If she follows this breadcrumb, she will find her way to answers, and that’s the last thing he wants. He has to nip this in the bud. 

“Oliver!” she says, exasperated. “I saw your scars.” 

Oliver grimaces at the reminder, but quickly pushes it down. He has to focus. He needs to think fast. If she thinks that he’s the vigilante because of some scars on his body, he needs to persuade her that she’s wrong. And Waller always taught him that the best lies are the ones closest to the truth. 

“Do you wanna know why I don’t talk about what happened to me there?” he asks in a low voice. “Because if people knew… If you knew… You’d see me differently. And not as some vigilante guy. As damaged.” 

Laurel looks like she’s about to protest, so he continues before she can. “I don’t sleep. I barely eat. I can barely sign my name, let one aim a bow and arrow.” 

Oliver can see the pity in her eyes, but it’s better than suspicion. 

“I’m sorry… I think I just thought— I guess I don’t know what I was thinking,” Laurel says. “Maybe it was nice to believe that all of our suffering was for a reason. That everything you went through and that my family went through had a purpose.” 

Oliver wants to tell her that it did. He’d like to tell her that he came back a changed man, one who’s willing to fight for the people of this city just like she does. He’d like to tell her that, but he can’t. Oliver isn’t a hero. The Hood is a monster who delivers nothing but vengeance. He isn’t a symbol of hope for this city. He’s a symbol of fear. Nothing more. 

“If I were a hero, I’d have been able to save Felicity from that gunman yesterday,” he says. 

At the mention of Felicity’s name, Laurel winces. Oliver feels bad. He hates that his mom planted the seed in Laurel’s mind of the two of them. He hates that his own actions where misread as signs of his interest. Not only does he not want to cause Laurel any unnecessary pain, but he also doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize his relationship with Felicity. Both women deserve more from him. 

Laurel clears her throat. “I, uh… Listen, Ollie, can we just ignore everything that happened the past two days?” she asks. “I don’t know what came over me. You and I? It’s never going to happen. Not again.” 

Oliver nods his agreement. The ship sailed on their relationship a long time ago. 

“If you really love her like you say you do,” Laurel says, nodding towards his closed door. “You should treat her better than you treated me… You shouldn’t be bringing old girlfriends up to your bedroom.” 

“I didn’t—” he’s about to protest that he hadn’t brought her upstairs last night to hook up. He’d brought her upstairs because it was one of the only quiet and private places he could think of. But he stops himself. It’s not worth the argument. What’s done is done. 

“Yeah,” he agrees with her. 

“And you should probably have a word with your mom so that she stops telling other women you have feelings for them,” Laurel says. 

Oliver will be having more than a word with his mom. He’ll be having several. He’s still fuming over what he’s found out. 

Laurel and he exchange an awkward goodbye. She leaves and Oliver steps back into his bedroom. Once he’s sure that Felicity is still fast asleep and likely to be out for another hour or two, he heads downstairs to find his mom. She has some serious explaining to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments give me life!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone for your continued support of this verse! It means the world!


End file.
